Birds of a Feather
by Winter's Light Blossom
Summary: I come from a long line of powerful psychics. My mother is psychic. My father is psychic. Even my two brothers are psychic. Of course, none are really as powerful as my ancestors. You could say the gene pool was, well, waning, but as my parents always say, "Psychic power may lie dormant for generations, but it never truly disappears." ...with me it came back in full swing. Nick/OFC
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Disclaimer:  
I DO NOT OWN ROSE RED, ITS CHARACTERS OR ITS STORY. I ONLY OWN MY OWN PEOPLE, PLACES AND THINGS.

Author's Side Note:  
This is the rewritten story of 'Only Fool Rush In Where Angels Fear To Tred'. Please read and, if you like the story, review. Thank you.

* * *

~}{ Birds of a Feather }{~

Prologue

_Psychic_

This term comes from the Greek _psȳchikós – _meaning of the soul, spirit or mind. It is an adjective that has six letters, two syllables and was first recorded in 1895 though psychic phenomenas have been observed much longer than this. It has several meanings. The dictionary definition is, "...relating to or denoting faculties or phenomena apparently inexplicable by natural laws, especially involving a person who claims to have an ability to perceive information hidden from the normal senses through extrasensory perception (ESP), or who is said by others to have such abilities as telepathy, clairvoyance or psychokinesis."

Being psychic means having the ability of mind to influence the world. Some influence it mentally, emotionally or even physically. Psychics are like snowflakes: no two are exactly alike. The same can be said for their gifts. No two alike. There are many different types and many different subcategories within each type. The main types of psychics are telepaths, cognitives, clairvoyants, and psychokinetics. Most people, including some psychics, don't know this.

So how do I?

Well, I am one of three children who were born to, not one, but two psychic parents. My mother is a medium. She can communicate and see spirits as though they were physically still among us. My father is a precognitive. He can see the future from mere seconds before to decades. Each of them has come from a very long line of psychics. It runs deep in my family roots and the further down you go, the more powerful the abilities were. As the tree grew and the branches spread, the abilities began to wane. Along these branches are the youngest generation that consists of my cousins, my brothers and me. Only one leaf on those branches carries someone in the family that has no gift. The family believed, that with her birth, came the end of the psychic bloodline. My parents believed otherwise.

"_Psychic power may lie dormant for generations, but it never truly disappears."_

That's what they always said and sure enough, it was true. For on another branch now lays leaf whose power outmatches anything the family has seen before.

This descendant is me.


	2. Chapter 2: A Dream

~}{ Birds of a Feather }{~

My eyes snap open. The air is thick with fog and silence has engulfed me. I'm standing within a forest. The sky was an odd color of grey; haunting. A stick snaps from somewhere around me. I cannot pinpoint where. Another snaps and then another; footsteps.

I catch a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eyes. When I look nothing is there. Another shadow flashes past me from the left. Again, nothing is there when I look. I begin to walk. To where, I don't know. I have no sense of direction within the midst of the trees, the moss, and the fog. All I can do is walk until I find something... or until something finds me.

I stop. My head snaps to the left and then to the right. I hear whispers on the wind. They surround me. They call my name. They tell me to come home, that they are waiting. I blink.

When I open my eyes I am no longer in the forest. I am standing before a large, wrought iron gate covered in ivy. An 'R' sits weaved into the gate on either side. Behind it is a large mansion lost in time, covered in weeds and moss and ivy. I don't recognize it, but somehow it feels familiar.

A memory long since forgotten, I tell myself.

Slowly the gates open and I walk onto the grounds. The gravel crunches and grinds together beneath my shoes as I walk along the driveway. Before I know it I am inside the mansion and within the entrance hall. Ahead of me are the stairs that wind and climb. To my right and left there are pillars of marble, floors of marble and walls of rich oak. There was something odd on the air. A scent I can't quite place. The coloring was off as well. The grey haze still sat over my eyes like a sheet I couldn't blink away.

I breathe out and see my breath is visible before me. A shiver runs down my spine and bumps line my flesh. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Something was very wrong with this place. There was a sickness that hung in the air, ran through the walls, dangled from the ceiling like a black cloud. I was surrounded and at the same time I was alone.I kneel on the cool floor and place a palm against the marble. I feel a steady pulse run through my hand like a heartbeat.

…_bud-dump, bud-dump, bud-dump…_

It frightens me. I pull my hand back and look around the hall again. I stand, hands clenched at my sides, and walk to the stairs. I climb; one foot after the other. Soon I reach the second level. I walk the halls. I examine the rooms. All the while I don't realize that this place is a labyrinth with a mind of its own, a hunger never to be satisfied. I don't realize that every step further was a step farther from the light. I was walking into the darkness with the cold grasp of death as my guide.

I am led by an invisible force to a door at the end of the hall. The doorknob is hot, despite the cold air around me. Before I can turn the knob the door creeps open. The room was dark. A fire sat lonely at the back of the room contained in a hearth. Its flames dance along the silvery floor of the mirror that spread from wall to wall. It made my stomach queasy; that mirror floor.

I walk inside and the door creeps shut. The air grows cold despite the fire. I look behind me and see something on the mirror floor glowing. It lifted up into the air and hovered over the floor a moment before transfiguring into the shape of a young girl. She had a withered arm and carries a doll in the other that was fine. She sings a haunting tune that echoes throughout the room. The walls shake and the ground quakes as she moves closer to me.

I hear screams. I hear doors slamming shut and whispers that brush past my ears. The fire in the hearth grows hotter. I take a step back and then turn around to face it. I hear screams resonating from the flames. Suddenly, it flashes and a great, terrible spirit flies from the flames towards me. I fall backwards, close my eyes and wait as the flames pass over me.

All goes quiet.

I open my eyes and find that I am no longer in the room with the mirror floor. I am on a ceiling, staring down at the objects in the office. I stand and look behind me for any sign of the ghost girl or the flaming beast. I take a step further into the room and then another. My stomach churns as I pass lights, desks, chairs.

I don't understand how I got here. It doesn't matter though. I don't know what has happened. I don't know how much time has passed, but I know that I need to leave this place.

I walk to the other side of the room and open the door. It leads me into a dark hallway of red and rich wood. For some reason the hall was right side up when the office wasn't. I walk through the hallway until it begins to shrink. Everything was closing in on me. I turn around and head back. I open the door I knew would lead to the office and find myself looking into an abyss.

I step through the door and stand before the railing. I look downwards into the darkness and see that I am several, perhaps even hundreds, or levels from the bottom. Then I turn my sight upwards and see a similar sight. In both directions there were hundreds of floors; hundreds of doors.

In my heart I know that I am lost forever...

I awake from the dream with a start. My heart hammers in my chest as I try to catch my breath. I sit up, the covers falling from my shoulders, and look out the windows that line the wall to my left. It was still night. The moon was still high in the sky with its reflection glimmering on the lake's face below.

I place a hand to my forehead and push back my hair from my face. The moonlight hits it and makes the gold shimmer as it passes my eyes. The phone suddenly rings and causes me to jump. I pick it up from the nightstand and read who it is.

_Mom and Dad  
__509-867-2381_

I hit the green button and hold the phone to my ear.

"Ana? Are you there?" My father's voice comes through from the other end. "I saw waking startled. Are you alright?"

"I don't know, Papa." I reply softly and close my eyes. I lean my back against my headboard and sigh. "It was unlike any nightmare I've had before."

"What happened in it?" My father's deep voice was soft, but comforting. I lick my lips as my year old hound mix climbs up onto the bed with me. He curls up beside me into a ball and sighs. My mind returns to my father on the other end of the phone. I tell him of my nightmare; of the forest and the whispers; of the shadows and the mirror floored room; of the never ending levels of staircases and the abyss of darkness.

By the end, I am filled with fear once more. I sink down further beneath my covers and lay an arm over my puppy. I pull the covers to my chin and close my eyes, listening to my father's breathing.

"Oh sweetheart…" My father's reply does nothing to comfort me. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. "It wasn't a nightmare."

"Then what was it?" I don't actually want to know the answer, but I can't help but to ask anyway.

"It's called precognitive-telepathic dreaming." He starts. "You experience a future event through a dream."

"Are you sure?" My question is replied by the small, honest laugh of my father.

"Yes. I've had them myself once or twice." He falls quiet and I know that he is thinking about the dream. He's thinking about the spirits, of the pulse, of me being lost forever in the darkness. "Ana, you have two options."

My eyebrows knit together in confusion and curiosity.

"You can either forget about this dream and perhaps you will never dream it again." My father begins, sounding as though this is the option he prefers I take. He sighs gently. "Or… or you can go to this mansion in the fog and figure out why it is calling to you."

I don't say anything for a long moment. I can't think of anything to say to him. I did want to forget the dream and everything within it that I had seen. There is another part of me though. A part that needs to know what it all means; what it wants from me.

"I'll think about it." I reply and look down at Seamus. I run a hand gently over his side. "When I decide, I'll call you."

"Okay. Love you, Angel." My father breaths out reluctantly. He was unsettled with my reply.

"I love you too, Papa." I reply and then hang up the phone. I set it on the nightstand and look down at Seamus. His jowls twitch and his front legs jerk in response to his dreaming. I look out the windows and at the water that ripples.

"A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain softly blows o'er lullaby bay. It fills the sails of boats that are waiting... waiting to sail your worries away." I sing softly to myself and Seamus. Singing helps me when I need to think. "It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain. And your boat waits down by the key. The winds of night so softly are sighing. Soon they will fly your troubles to sea."

The sun peeks through the branches of the trees that surround the lake and my house. Its light dances over my face. The sky begins to burn pinks and oranges.

"So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain. Wave goodbye to the cares of the day..." I don't know what I want to do with the dream. If I let it go, forget it, I may regret it. Or it may be a reoccurring thing. The dream may be the call of death, a siren's song luring me into the darkness where the house plans to swallow me. "And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain... sail far away from lullaby bay."

Soon I fall asleep once more. The nightmare doesn't return and I am wafted away to a place of comfort, of light; a room. There's a pool table and a fireplace that held the warmth locked within iron doors. I hear soft voices, but they sound far away. I look towards the couch, the armchairs, but I see no one.

"Are you alright?" The voice is unfamiliar to me. There was an accent to it, but also a softness, a kindness I had never known. I look at the pool table. There was no one. I feel a push against my head as though something was trying to get inside. I do my best to block it.

"Why won't you let me know what you know?" The voice comes again, but filled with worry. I feel something press against my cheek. I close my eyes and try to imagine what it could be; a hand, fingers, warmth. "See what you see?"

I have no answer to his question. There was something though; something I didn't want him to see, to know about me. I raise a hand and place it against his on my cheek. I brush my thumb over the back of his hand to comfort him.

"...what are you afraid of?"

I open my eyes and feel his hand disappear. I long for his touch, but know that I shall never again feel it. I notice that the room has changed. The couch was gone and so were the chairs. The pool table missing and the fire snuffed out. There is dead silence in the darkness.

"...what are you afraid of?" His voice returns. I know the answer to this question. I have always been afraid of the same thing; one thing. It was something that, if I wasn't careful, had the ability to consume me.


	3. Chapter 3: Goods and Ills

~}{ Birds of a Feather }{~

_There was a time in the youth of the world when Goods and Ills entered equally into the concerns of men, so that the Goods did not prevail to make them altogether blessed, nor the Ills to make them wholly miserable. But owing to the foolishness of mankind the Ills multiplied greatly in number and increased in strength, until it seemed as though they would deprive the Goods of all share in human affairs, and banish them from the earth._

**Ring, ring…**

I look over the top of the book in my hands and stare at the lake. All seems to be quiet; the wind blows in the trees and rustles the leaves. I can hear a bird chirping somewhere in the woods.

**Ring, ring…**

Seamus picks up his head and looks back at the house. I set my book down on my lap and give a shallow sigh before sitting up straight. I look down at Seamus and then set the book beside me on the wicker loveseat.

**Ring, ring…**

I pick myself up and walk into the house, picking up the phone from the side table next to the couch. I don't recognize the number, but answer anyway.

"Hello?" I ask as I kick one of Seamus' many stuffed toys away from my feet. At first there is no reply. So I try again. "Hello?"

"Oh! Uh hello, is this Dr. Gallagher?" The woman on the other end of the line asks. I can hear papers ruffling behind her voice.

"That depends on _which_ Dr. Gallagher you're trying to reach. May I ask who is calling?" I reply and sit myself on the couch, pulling my legs up beside me. Seamus runs in from outside and hops up onto the couch beside me with a squeaky ball.

"My name is Dr. Joyce Reardon. I'm a parapsychology professor at Beaumont University. I was hoping to get a hold of Dr. **Ana **Gallagher." My ears begin to ring at the mention of 'parapsychology'. It was starting again. The obsessive phone calls from people I have never met and who have never met me, but - oh! - have they heard of me. My name was very infamous in the parapsychology world thanks to my brothers. To them and others in the field I was a God send; a true paranormal phenomenon.

"This is she." I reply, close my eyes and bite my tongue, not wanting to say anything more for fear I may regret it. After all, this woman had done nothing except call me so far. She hadn't had a chance to piss me off. "Why are you calling me, Dr. Reardon?"

I pull the squeaky ball from Seamus and throw it into the next room. He goes sprinting after it as I stand from the couch and walk into the kitchen.

"Well, I'm putting together a little... team, of sorts, for an expedition this Memorial Day weekend. I was hoping I could add your name to my list of attendees." She finishes and I can't help but to roll my eyes. This isn't the first time someone has tried to recruit me into a little psychic venture. I had been on only two; neither ended well. The second one ended even worse than the first and the first ended with two people in the hospital emergency room and one induced coma.

"May I ask where you are taking the group?" I ask, genuinely curious about this part. It always interested me to find new haunted places or at least supposed haunted places.

"We're going to the Rose Red mansion. Surely you've heard of it." Her voice sounds far too happy.

"No, I haven't I'm afraid." I reply as Seamus brings back his ball. He sets his head in my lap and squeaks it, trying to get my attention. "What makes the mansion so special to the paranormal society?"

"Well, since 1906, twenty-three people have shown up either dead or missing, including the wife of the home's owner; Ellen Rimbauer. It's publically thought to be haunted by more than one spirit and the mansion itself is believed to be a psychic phenomenon in its own right." I can hear the excitement in the good Dr.'s voice as she speaks. I throw Seamus' ball once more and open the fridge, looking for something to eat. I pull out a Greek yogurt and move to the silverware drawer.

"Surely you're not the first to wish to venture inside. So," I begin and open the drawer. I pull out a spoon before nudging the drawer closed with my hip, "What do you hope to accomplish by going there?"

"I want to document the phenomenons and hopefully prove that parapsychology is a respectable field of study." Her words make me laugh. I take a spoonful of my yogurt and then look at the label, searching for the flavor. It was good.

"Don't take this the wrong way Dr. Reardon, but parapsychology will never be a 'respectable' field. People are just too closed minded to what they don't understand." I reply and walk to my kitchen table by the bay windows. I sit down and look outside at my deck and the lake. "And can't you do all of this without the aid of psychics?"

"I'm afraid not. The mansion fell into a coma years ago and is now a dead cell." She replies gently as though I had struck a sensitive nerve and she was now in pain. I lick the yogurt off my spoon and lean back in my chair.

"If it is a dead cell, than what good are psychic's going to be?" I didn't see what her end game was.

"I'm hoping there are reminisces of what was once in the house. Something that ordinary people can't pick up on, but that a psychic might be able to sense." She explains as I take another spoonful of my yogurt. I push the empty cup and spoon away from me. She had a good point.

"I believe that you would be one of these capable psychics given your specific talents, experience and family history. You would be a perfect addition to our group." She finishes. The line goes silent a moment. "So, can I count you in?"

I don't say anything at first. All I do is stand up from the table with my yogurt container and spoon and dispose of them in the respected reciprocals.

"How did you get my number?" I ask slowly as I turn off the sink, sitting the spoon on a towel to dry.

"It's on the application you turned in." She replies as I hear her shuffle through more papers. I narrow my eyes and turn away from the sink. I walk back into the living room and sit down beside Seamus on the couch.

"What application?" I question and look around my living room. I didn't turn in any application. I would remember.

"Forgive me, but I have it sitting right here in front of me." She replies as I hear the shuffling cease. Seamus lays his head on my lap and chews on the ball, squeaker broken.

"Dr. Gallagher, I understand the position I am putting you in. This is a hard field of work and people can be quite cruel. I know this from personal experience." Her words make me laugh. "But I am willing to pay you five thousand dollars for involving yourself. Perhaps even six thousand."

"Dr. Reardon," I begin and lick my lips. I shake my head and close my eyes. I grind my teeth together lightly and then open my eyes. "I really don't think I'm what you need."

"But you are! You're perfect!" She quickly responds with desperation weaving through her voice. "I already have a telepath, a precognitive, an automatic writer, even a touch-know, but I don't have anyone who matches you; who even comes close to you. Please."

"Does that application say anything about the other 'research excursions' I've been on?"

"No. It doesn't."

"The first one I attended two people were put into intensive care and one had to be put into an induced coma. She still hasn't come out of it." My self control is beginning to wear thin. "And the last one... the last one was even worse."

"Please, Dr. Gallagher. This house, Rose Red, is a dead cell. At most the touch-know might get a _feeling_ of a presence long since gone." Dr. Reardon tries desperately to gain my compliance. "...I might be able to scrape up as much as ten thousand dollars if you can give me a solid commitment."

I don't answer at first. I take my eyes from Seamus and stare at the fireplace straight ahead against the back wall. I look at the pictures on the mantle slowly. My family stares back at me, judging me. None of them were afraid to use their gifts. None of them shied away from ridicule or from the words of the closed minded. None of them fear what they can do, but none of them can do what I do.

"Who delivered the application to you, Dr. Reardon?" I ask slowly and look away from my family's prying, motionless eyes.

"I don't know. I never met him before then." Dr. Reardon was honest, but that did nothing to answer my question how I wanted it answered. "Oh wait! He said that you were his sister. He came to my office, handed me the application and said that you had forgotten to send it in."

I scowl silently and shake my head, jaw clenched. I can't believe he did this. It wasn't his place. He had no right, but that hadn't stopped him. It also wasn't stopping me from actually thinking of accepting Dr. Reardon's offer.

"Dr. Gallagher? Are you still there?" Dr. Reardon's voice comes through the phone.

_I'm going to hate myself forever for this..._

"I'll do it." I answer.

"This is great!" She exclaims. All the while I am rubbing my forehead and cursing at myself. "This Monday at eight we're having a little get-together in the Wimser Psychology Building at the university. I hope to see you there."

"Sure. I'll be there." I reply and throw my hand from my forehead. Nothing I have ever done had ever felt so wrong. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to rethink my decision. Unfortunately, a deal is a deal and there was no going back now.

"See you then." Dr. Reardon hangs up the phone and so do I. I place it back on the side table and let my head fall backwards onto the back of the couch. I run a hand through my hair and close my eyes as I take a deep breath. My heart has sunken into my stomach like a brick.

I pick up the phone again and dial a number quickly. I place my free hand on Seamus' head, stroking his silky fur.

"What's up, little sis?" Someone answers the phone.

"I cannot believe you, Braedan." I breathe out and open my eyes.

"Tristram! Phone's for you!" The person shouts suddenly.

"Braedan, I know it was you." I snap and glare at the carpet covering the middle of my wooden living room floor.

"Ha! Not this time." Braedan laughs sarcastically. He mumbles something and I hear rustling, the phone being exchanged.

"Hello?" Tristram answers unsure of who he was talking to.

"How dare you." I growl, but Tristram only laughs softly.

"I was beginning to wonder if Dr. Reardon lost your number." I hear him take a bite of something hard. "She seemed so happy to see a psychic of your caliber show interest in her little expedition into the infamous Rose Red. I didn't think she knew your name. I suppose I was wrong."

"She knows me a little too well. She even mentioned the family and I doubt you put any of that on the application." I lay my head back on the top of the couch. It was amazing how many people knew my family. Though, it was mainly only people who cared about the paranormal and they were few.

"Are you going?"

"Yes... why did you do it?" I ask after another moment. That was the real question I wanted answered out of this conversation.

"After everything that happened on the last two you never would have agreed to do it." He replies instantly as though it was that simple. It wasn't though.

"Of course I wouldn't! I'm a hazard!" I exclaim and stand from the couch, beginning to pace. "People get hurt around me!"

"Oh Ana... You're a bit temperamental and a drama queen at times, but not a hazard. And people may get hurt around you, but it's not **because** of you." He was trying hard to comfort me. It was starting to work.

"I'm a magnet to the things that go bump in the night." I breathe out as I feel myself becoming smaller. I turn my back to the window and slid to the floor beside it.

"Yes you are." Tristram doesn't even try to candy coat it. I love that about him even though sometimes it annoys me. "You always have been and you always will be, but that doesn't mean you go and buy a cabin in the woods and lock yourself away."

Seamus crawls off the couch and walks in front of me with his nose to the ground. I outstretch my legs and lean my head against the wall.

"You can't hide from the world forever. One day the darkness will find you. Then what will you do?" Tristram's question is rhetorical. I watch Seamus as he walks back in front of me. He sits down and stares at me with his mouth open. I stare back and then sigh, closing my eyes. "You and everyone else in the group will be perfectly fine, but should things go bump in the night, you have the powers to bump back. Remember that."

"I'll try." I grumble and lock eyes with Seamus again.

"It's quite a hike, that house." Tristram changes the subject. "Biggest thing I've ever seen."

"You've been in it?" I ask with an eyebrow arched.

"No. I've only ever been outside the gate. It's been closed since 1995 when a woman on the Historical Society went missing inside." He answers as though giving a lecture. "When the police investigated they only found her purse that was covered in blood. They assumed that she had been kidnapped and the case was closed."

"What else, professor?" I say in a mocking tone and then roll my eyes. I stand from the ground and look out the window again. "Don't treat me like one of your students, Trist."

"I don't mean to." He replies gently, making me feel bad. "The place is haunted, Ana. Terrible things have happened there and I'm certain they have left ugly scars."

"Are you trying to make me regret my decision even more than I already am?" I don't understand his words. One minute he seems as though he wants me to go and the next he acts as though he doesn't. "Or have you really become this wishy-washy over the years?"

Tristram gives a small laugh.

"I just want you to know what you're walking into." His explanation makes my guilt grow. I pout to myself and lay my forehead against the glass of the window. "You're going to be alright, Ana."

"How do you know that?" I ask, desperately searching for an answer. I don't share his confidence at all.

"I'm you're older brother."

"I'm her older brother too!" Braedan shouts in the background.

"I'm your, more mature and responsible, older brother. And I know you." Tristram clarifies. "You're a good person. You're just afraid of what you can do and you have every right to be."

His answer makes me feel only slightly better.

"God knows that I am."

"What?" His comment confuses and startles me. I never knew he was afraid of me.

"I am afraid of your powers, but in the way you're thinking."

"Okay, then explain this one to me."

"Ana, your abilities haven't been seen in the family for a very, very long time. Our ancestors weren't able to see the extent of them because Eileen died at such a young age. Even now, when you have passed her by five years, we can't imagine their true extent. They continue to grow at such an exponential rate and branch into directions we never thought possible that it makes it nearly impossible to predict." Tristram falls quiet, seeming to think that he has said too much about something I didn't need to hear again. The line goes dead with silence as we both sit on each end, waiting for the other to speak.

"I wouldn't want anyone other than you with the powers that you have." Tristram begins softly. "I wouldn't trust their self control like I do yours. Your fear is what is keeping them in check."

I don't say anything. There was no response to his words.

"You've descended from Goods, Ana." Tristram breathes, hoping to extract a reply of some kind from me. "I have to go... Willow's bus is here and I have to kick Braedan out of my house before Claire comes home."

"Alright." I mumble.

"Will you be okay?" He asks, unsure of what was going on inside my head. At first I am tempted to tell him no, that he had made things worse, but then I rethink my answer.

"I'll be fine."

"Yes, you will." He declares before he tells me he loves me and hangs up. I hang up my phone once more and place it on the side table next to the couch. I then walk outside with Seamus at my side. He takes off after a frog and I go back to my book. I sit down on the loveseat and pick it up, my page having been saved.

_...until it seemed they would deprive the Goods of all share in human affairs, and banish them from the earth._

_The latter, therefore, betook themselves to heaven and complained to Jupiter of the treatment they had received, at the same time praying to him to grant them protection from the Ills, and to advise them concerning the manner of their intercourse with men. Jupiter granted their request for protection, and decreed that for the future they should not go among the men openly in a body, and so be liable to attack from the hostile Ills, but singly and unobserved, and at infrequent and unexpected intervals. Hence it is that the earth is full of Ills, for they come and go as they please and are never far away; while Goods, alas, come one by one only, and have to travel all the way from Heaven, so that they are very seldom seen._

I close the book and look towards the lake. The sun was still high in the sky and its rays dance across the rippling water. A breeze blows and tosses my hair into my face. I push it behind my ears and sigh heavily.

"What have I gotten myself into?"


	4. Chapter 4: Monday Night

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

I was walking as quickly as I could towards the steps of the Wimser Psychology Building. The bells rang out over the campus, telling me I was late. I run up the steps and through the doors to the doors of the lecture hall.

"Despite what some people may think," I could already hear Dr. Reardon's speech from behind the doors. "Psychic powers, telepathy, telekinesis, precognition… have no moral radiant. They are neither good nor bad. Houses are different."

I open the doors to the lecture hall and peer inside. Dr. Reardon was behind her podium, looking out amongst the crowd. There were more psychics than I expected. Dr. Reardon spots me and smiles, giving a small wave.

"Welcome Dr. Gallagher! I'm so happy you came!" Her comment makes me want to slap her. Everyone turns around in their seats and looks at me, making me uncomfortable. "I was beginning to think that you had changed your mind. Please have a seat."

I ignore her words and walk towards the stage. I move into a row several back from the stage and sit a few seats from the man who had already claimed a seat in it. Behind me sat an older man and a younger man with ginger hair. Several seats to my right me was a man with white blonde hair and the last three were all the way in the front row.

Dr. Reardon dims the lights as she picks up a remote from the podium. She clicks a button, starting a slideshow.

"I knew it was big, but wow. It's huge." A woman wearing glasses who sat in the front row pipes up.

"Fortunately for us, Rose Red is an enormous dead cell. There have been no overt manifestations since 1995 or so." Dr. Reardon looks back at us all from her slides and leans on her podium. "I believe-"

I feel the sense I'm being watched and look to my left at the man with white blonde hair. He was smiling, well more like smirking, at me. I turn back around in my seat and think for a moment, looking back once more at the man whose gaze had returned to the slideshow.

"In 1906, you were on your own. Rose Red was built by John P. Rimbauer on top of Spring Street in the center of Seattle as a wedding present to his wife; Ellen." Dr. Reardon walks out from behind her podium with the remote in her hand and slowly walks back and forth across the stage, occasionally looking out at us. It takes all of my strength to force myself to pay attention to her. "In 1950, Ellen Rimbauer disappeared, but the trouble with Rose Red started even before there was a house."

Dr. Reardon clicks a button and the image on the screen changes to a picture of the house being built. Even then the layout was great, bigger than anything I have ever seen.

"The teamster made n effort to get away after shooting the foreman. He just dropped his gun on the seat of his wagon and went on down to the local saloon. That's where the police found him. His name was Harry Corbin. He claimed he remembered nothing from that morning until he awoke the next day with a knot behind his ear."

My mind begins to wander. I can't seem to keep it on the lecture Dr. Reardon was giving about the supposed haunted house I would be spending the upcoming weekend in.

"What do you mean exactly?" The man next to me asks. I am drawn from my thoughts and look at him in curiosity of what I have missed.

"In time, Nick. All in good time." Dr. Reardon replies with a smile and walks back to her podium. Nick smiles back and laces his hands in his lap. I look away and back up at the screen that has changed. I listen quietly as Dr. Reardon went through the first deaths on the property. "And this is the way Rose Red looks today."

The slide changes again and I am almost in awe. The house had grown. All on its very own. Doubled, perhaps even tripled in size. It was surreal to me.

"Rose Red has how many rooms?" An older gentleman with salt and pepper hair asks. Further in his row sat a pudgier man with red hair who chews on his pen.

"What are you lookin' at?" He snaps loud enough for only me to hear him.

"I don't think anyone really knows." Dr. Reardon replies to the older man's question and leans on her podium. I quietly answer the ginger with a small 'nothing' and turn around in my seat. I cross my legs and pull of my messenger bag from where it sat crossed from shoulder to hip on me.

"You count on Monday and call it 74. Come back on Friday and come up with 87 or 97." A man in the front row speaks up and readjusts himself in his seat. I feel eyes on me again. I look to my right at the man named Nick. He is just staring, somewhat sorrowfully, at me. I question if he had heard the ginger and sympathized with me.

"That's impossible, isn't it?" The woman in glasses asks in disbelief.

"That's Rose Red, sweetheart." The man replies with air of arrogance, pulling me away from Nick.

"How many people have actually disappeared then?" Nick asks and readjusts himself in his seat. "Surely there is an accurate account of them."

"Twenty-three..." I mumble to myself and lace my hands in my lap.

"Twenty-three since the end of the First World War." Dr. Reardon replies and pushes herself from her podium.

"You'll forgive me if I say, I find that almost impossible to believe." The man chewing his pen finally pipes up.

"Of course you do. Anyone would. But I assure you that it's true." Dr. Reardon walks in front of the screen. "Five men and eighteen women. Rose Red has always been particularly _fond _of the ladies."

I get a chill down my spine and sit up straight in my seat. That made me even more uncomfortable than when everyone was staring at me. I could tell by the sound of squeaking seats that I wasn't the only one.

"Please, please! Remember, we are speaking of a house that has long since fallen dormant." Dr. Reardon tries to remedy her mistake.

_Oh really...? When was the last disappearance...?_

"It better be. Otherwise, five thousand dollars isn't enough if it isn't." The woman with blonde hair in the front row speaks slowly.

"When was the last disappearance?" Nick asks, causing me to knit my eyebrows together. I look at Nick in bewilderment. It was an odd coincidence that he would ask that question right after I had said it to myself, but not enough for me to think anything more of it. I relax into my seat again as Dr. Reardon leans one elbow on her podium and thinks for a moment.

"It was 1972. Almost thirty years ago and as I've said before there have been no observable phenomenas since-"

"Who was it?" The blonde cuts Dr. Reardon off. "The last one?"

"Pam, we've got a lot to go over." Dr. Reardon replies as I mumble the missing woman's name under my breath. I had done my research. "I think we hardly need to focus on-"

"It was a woman on the Historical Society's annual tour. She was with the group when they went upstairs. They didn't realize she wasn't with them anymore till the tour was over. The police looked around, but they didn't find her; just her purse. They declared it a cold case a few years back." I speak up without thinking. I look around, seeing the eyes staring at me again. The lecture hall was silent apart from the soft buzzing of the projector. I look up at the stage and see Dr. Reardon's expression, quickly realizing that I had cut her off.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, grimacing. Dr. Reardon walks back to her spot behind the podium.

"After that tour, they closed it down. Without any energy to feed on the house fell into a sleep, then a coma and finally-"

"A dead cell." The man chewing his pen finishes for her. She nods her head and smiles politely. It was painfully obvious that she didn't like being cut off.

"I wouldn't bet on that if I were you." Nick speaks softly with a smirk on his lips. I watch him carefully and wonder how he would know such a thing. He catches me staring at him, but I don't look away. I study him a moment longer and then turn back around in my seat.

Dr. Reardon begins with her lecture again. My mind wanders off and soon I find myself thinking about the other day. I linger on the conversation Tristram and I had, but then quickly snap myself out of it before I could delve too deep. I look off to the left, seeing Nick in the corner of my eye and wonder if he has seen anything in my mind. I have figured out that he is a telepath. I look back towards the stage and at the screen.

"To which she added: damn all men." Dr. Reardon speaks the phrase with such fervor that I begin to wonder what I have missed again. It was definitely the wrong place to decide to pay attention at. "Ellen turned her sights to psychics and one in particular; Madam Stravinsky. Not even Sukeena could convince her that the lady was a fraud, but fraud or not, Madam Stravinsky changed Ellen Rimbauer's life in August of 1914."

"What did she tell her?" Pam asks curiously.

"She said great-gram wouldn't die until the house was finished." The man in the front row speaks up before Dr. Reardon can. "Great-gram said that it was and Madam S told her, 'It isn't finished until you say it is. Until you say'."

"Ellen took it seriously. Everything else aside, she never had an attack of her African fever." Dr. Reardon explains and taps the remote to the projector against her free hand.

"Probably psychosomatic in the first place." The man chewing his pen pipes up. He has now slouched in his seat and lain his feet across the back of the seats in front of him. Very close to my head. I look back at him, getting a sight of his shoes, and look at him with slight disdain.

"Probably just PMS, right Emery?" The man in the front row throws back.

"Wouldn't surprise me." Emery laughs and pulls out a new pen for him to chew on. I stare at the screen and the lecture continues despite Emery's grumbling. I refuse to look his way or at anyone else for that matter. I just want to leave.

"Ellen continued to make additions to the house until her disappearance. Over forty years of well financed eccentricity. When she ran out of conventional things to build, she built unconventional things." Dr. Reardon moves along the stage again with the remote in her hand and her eyes on the stage floor.

"Such as?" The older man behind me asks while he takes out a small notebook and pen.

"Such as the Tower Folly. Completed in 1921. John Rimbauer jumped to his death from it two years later." Dr. Reardon answers, making a note to look out at us.

"Was it suicide?" Nick asks with curiosity. "Or did he run into something he couldn't deal with?"

"The certificate said accidental death, but the tabloids talked of suicide and ghosts." She replies and laces her hands before her with the remote between them. "During its active years, and they were very active, women in Rose Red had a tendency to go missing and men had a tendency to turn up dead."

"The bad days are over." The older man comments and looks up from his notepad.

"Oh yes." Dr. Reardon replies with a bright smile.

"Are you sure?" The man counters with and I can't help but to give a small laugh to myself, lowering my head and covering my mouth.

"Positive." Dr. Reardon replies and moves back to the podium. She places the remote down and looks out at us.

"Then what exactly do you want with us, Ms. Reardon?" Nick asks as Dr. Reardon turns on the lights and shuts off the projector. The screen begins to roll up and I can't believe that an hour has flown by already.

"Isn't it obvious?" I pipe up and look over at him. Nick turns his head and stares at me, waiting for an answer. "She wants proof to solidify parapsychology as a respectable field of study. Isn't that what you told me, Dr. Reardon?"

"First off," Dr. Reardon speaks up before I can say anything more, "let's all get on a first name basis, shall we? It will make it a little easier. This field can be _difficult_. People either don't understand our goals or views or refuse to credit our findings. Then there are some who are actively cruel."

Dr. Reardon tappers off and stares down at the podium. She falls silent as her mind drifts away. I can only imagine what she is thinking about, but then I think of my own brothers. Both held careers in the paranormal field. Tristram was actually in the same field as Dr. Reardon.

"Research goals?" The man in the front row throws at her in an attempt to break her from her daze.

"Ah, yes. Yes. My research goals are modest; telemetry read outs, electromagnetic fields, etcetera. I want hard proof that the most thick headed, arrogant department head will have to accept." Dr. Reardon was becoming heated as she goes on. She stops and takes a deep breath. "If I get a little crazy, I apologize. I've put in a lot of long days."

"If Rose Red is a dead cell, than how much proof can you expect to get out of it?" The woman in the glasses asks. Dr. Reardon looks back at me and I can't help but to smile sarcastically. That was what I had asked and she had dodged the question.

"A twitch; a single twitch." Dr. Reardon smiles at the woman. "If I get it my reputation will be secure for the rest of my life. More importantly though, together we can help legitimize a branch of psychology which has been treated poorly for far too long."

"What are you doing here, Mr. Rimbauer?" Emery asks snarky. "What are your special talents?"

"Just looking out for the family interests." Rimbauer sits up and looks over the back of his seat. "I promised the professor one good shot at the family house and then the developer will make way. Five Star Condominiums: The Future."

"You're going to let them tear it down?" The woman in glasses asks. "It's a piece of history."

"Yeah well history doesn't pay the rent and the kid is broke." Rimbauer replies as snarky as Emery.

"Hardly the most noble of motives." Emery comments as arrogant and as annoying as Mr. Rimbauer.

"Are we the team? The whole team?" The older man asks as he packs away his notepad.

"She hopes not." I look over at Nick who had spoken. It was an odd thing to randomly say and it called the attention of everyone in the lecture hall.

"What?" The woman in glasses asks and stares at him from over the back of her seat. He replies with a small 'nothing' while shaking his head and looks away.

"I was hoping for one more, but that's starting to look iffy." Dr. Reardon replies as she walks down the steps of the stage. She stands before us with her hands laced before herself abdomen. "If I have to make do with you six, then I'll consider myself lucky. I'll see you this coming Friday at two o'clock and I'm sure it will be a Memorial Day weekend to remember."

I stand up from my seat and pick up my bag. I sling it over one shoulder and rest it against my hip.

"If you could all please come here and join me. I'd like to end with a circle." Dr. Reardon smiles at us. I stare at her a moment and then look around at the others. Everyone seems to be thinking the same thing: Dr. Reardon is stranger than us. We all make our way to the stage and form a circle, holding hands.

I stand beside Dr. Reardon, holding her hand as Nick takes my right one. I look around the circle once and smile at everyone awkwardly.

"Is there something specific you want us to focus on Joyce?" Nick asks and gently tugs on my hand without knowing it. I look at him and then turn my gaze to Dr. Reardon.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess let's focus on good will, good thoughts, each other." Dr. Reardon replies as she looks around the circle. I feel as though I am a child back home with my parents. They were in to the whole 'circle of good thoughts' thing. I hated it. Still do.

"That's nice." The woman in glasses comments and smiles. I force myself to smile, but I can feel it looks as sarcastic as I feel.

"Say cheese!" A shout comes from the back of the room. We all turn around and see a man with a camera getting ready to snap a picture. Before he can I feel someone pull me behind them, blocking me as the flash goes off. The reporter races off from the lecture hall and I quickly realize that it was Dr. Reardon who had moved in front of me.

"That no good rat, Bollinger." She curses under her breath. She turns around, facing back into the circle.

"Thank you." I was confused by her actions, but grateful none the less. She turns to me and smiles genuinely.

"Well Tristram made it very clear to me yesterday that you want to stay out of the Limelight." She offers. "No interviews, scans, x-rays. Nothing."

I am at a loss with how to respond. When did Tristram find all the time? I blink several times and then force a smile.

"Well I guess on that note I'll say goodnight." Dr. Reardon announces and begins to pick up her things. I don't waste another minute and begin heading for the door. I am the first out of the lecture hall and the first out of the Wimser building.

I look up at the starry sky and shake my head at myself. I lick my lips and then reach into my messenger bag for my keys.

"Oh, uh miss?" The call does nothing to catch my attention until I feel a hand on my shoulder accompany it. I look behind me and see several of the others; Nick, Pam, the older man, and the woman with glasses.

"Yes?" My voice betrays me and announces that I am confused.

"We were all going to go get something to drink." The woman begins and removes her hand. "To try and get to know each other better."

"Will you be gracing us with your presence?" Nick speaks up with a smirk on his lips that reach his light blue eyes. It's a cute smirk that makes me nervous. I remove my eyes from him and look at the others.

"No." The words leave my lips slowly and my lips stay in an 'O' for a brief moment. Realizing how rude I sound I speak up again. "It's not that I don't want to, um..."

"Cathy Kramer." She smiles and then looks to the others, pointing at each of them. "Pam Asbury."

Nice to meet you." Pam smiles and outstretches her hand to me.

"Victor Kandinsky." Cathy point to the older man.

"Vick." Victor pipes up and takes my hand. "Just Vick."

"And Nick Hardaway." Cathy finishes. Nick reaches passed Cathy and Pam, taking my hand in a gentle, but firm shake.

"Pleasure." He lets go of my hand, but his eyes linger.

"Doctor Ana Gallagher." I announce and look around at them all. "It's not that I don't want to get to know you all. I do. It's just that it's a friend's birthday and I've missed part of it to already to come here. I'm sorry."

"Oh well, alright then." Cathy smiles and gives a small wave of her hand. "I'm sure we'll get to know each other this weekend."

"Me too. It was nice meeting you all." I smile genuinely at her and the others before walking away.


	5. Chapter 5: Happy Birthday

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

It hadn't taken me long to get to the bar. I park my car and step out into the cool air. I spot other cars that I recognize and then open the rear door. I pick up the nicely wrapped gift and then close the door once more, locking it.

I could smell the stale alcohol and burnt food before I even walk in the door. The bar is packed with people I don't know. My eyes scan faces, but none look familiar.

"There she is!" The boisterous voice floats above the loud music and chatter to my ears. I look left and spot a mess of wavy, strawberry blonde hair. Braedan steps out from behind the support beam, drink in hand and walks over to me.

"Luci!" He exclaims and wraps his arms around my middle. He picks me up and I give a small squeal of surprise. He sets me back on the ground, laughing like the goof that he is. He was immature most days, especially when alcohol, singing and women were involved. He leads me to where the party was and I take notice that our group of friends was big; bigger than I remember.

"Ana!" Tristram calls out from where he stood next to his wife, Claire. She always reminds me of a swan when I see her. The ash blonde hair upon her head, pale white skin, bright green eyes, and long slender neck only add to the deceit. Braedan and I walk over to them and I hug them both.

"Where's Ceilí?" I ask, trying to project my voice loud enough to be heard. I didn't expect them to bring my four year old niece with them to a bar, but I was curious.

"Sleep over." Claire replies as Tristram and Braedan walk off to get new drinks. Claire wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug. I lay my head on her shoulder, having to slouch slightly to do so, and she lays her head on mine. We were friends long before she married Tristram. It hadn't been till college that the two got together. "Can you believe she's twenty-five already?"

"Uh yeah." I laugh and pull back from her. She gives me a playful shove as we both look at the birthday girl; Meghan. She spots us staring at her. We give a playful waves with a big openmouthed grins. She runs at us and jumps on me, nearly knocking me to the ground. Her lanky arms and legs wrap around me tightly; ankles, knees and elbows jabbing me.

"I'm so happy you're here!" She shouts and squeezes the life out of me. She releases her grip and stands before Claire and I, staring down at us with puppy brown eyes. She was unusually tall for a woman; six foot even with long legs and a thin waist. Most women were jealous of her until they got to know her. "Isn't this the greatest! Oh! Is that my gift?"

"You're insane." I reply and hand over the package. She walks away with the gift and sets it on a table before returning. She wraps her arms around Claire and me, pulling us into a group hug. We all had been friends since we were children and, even though we had gone our separate ways when high school ended, we had stayed friends.

"Happy birthday, Megs." I give her a small squeeze and look around the room at everyone. Our group was so loud, so happy. It was a nice sight.

"Yeah, happy birthday... you old hag. You've hit the quarter mile marker." Claire laughs, making me begin to giggle. Meghan pushes us away and walks back to her party, but not before looking back at us and flipping us the bird. She was now the oldest our trinity.

"Your time's coming Claire!" She shouts and then turns to the others. I shake my head and look to Claire.

"I don't know where those idiots got off to, but I'm going to go get some drinks." I announce and head towards the barkeep behind the counter. I spot Tristram and Braedan at the counter, seeming to argue over something or other. I roll my eyes and walk up behind Braedan, leaning on the counter.

"Claire pissed off the birthday girl." I announce as I reach up and tug on Braedan's ponytail. He looks over his shoulder at me as Tristram looks around him.

"What'd she do?" Tristram asks as a hint of worry crosses over Braedan's face.

"She called Megs an old hag and then told her that her life is a quarter over with." I reply and look at them, leaning my right elbow on the counter.

"Oh God damn it." Braedan curses and closes his eyes. He looks to Tristram and shakes his head. "She's gonna be bitchin' all night now."

"Then you had better go and make sure she gets drunk enough to forget it." I reply and wave the barkeep down. Braedan walks off and I order several pitchers of beer. Somehow, above the music and the chatter, I hear a familiar British voice.

"Vic, are you okay?" My eyes land on a table to the left. I spot Nick, Cathy, Pam, and Vic sitting in a circle around the table.

"Fine." Vic replies and get ups from the table, pushing in his seat. He doesn't look so good. He's sweating and his face is flushed. "Just gonna go make some room."

He turns away from the table and walks towards the bathrooms.

"Here you are." The barkeep sets down four pitchers of beer. I pull out my money from my back pocket and pay him.

"Wait." I call him back and look at him. "Send a new pitcher or whatever their having over to them."

I throw down some cash and then pick up two pitchers. Tristram takes the other two, looking from me to the table and then back again.

"I met them earlier at Dr. Reardon's lecture." I explain and walk in front of him. He doesn't say anything, but looks at them again before we walk to the other side of the bar.

"They're psychics?" Tristram asks even though he already knows the answer. I nod my head and set the pitchers in my hands down on a nearby table. "Do you know what kind?"

"Nope, but I think Nick Hardaway is a telepath." I reply and look up at him as I pick up an empty glass. I fill it with water from one of the pitchers already sitting on the table. Tristram looks over at the group, trying to figure out whether the man with white blonde hair was Nick or if the man who had run to the bathroom was.

"He's the one sitting at the table." I help him and he nods his head. His eyes skate back to me and he nods his head in the direction of the table. I look and see that the pitcher was delivered to the group. Nick's eyes land on me. He holds up his glass and nods his head in thanks to me. I smile and raise my own at him. Someone at the table must have said something because his attention is driven away from me.

"Why don't you go talk to them?" Tristram asks as he pours himself a glass of fresh beer. He raises the glass to his lips and takes a large gulp. I look back at him and shrug before spotting Meghan in the mass of party guests. Braedan has his arms wrapped around her from behind, swaying them back and forth. It can't help but to smile at them.

"Is it odd?" Tristram's question breaks my gaze.

"Is what odd?"

"Your brothers being with your best friends?" He clarifies and takes another gulp of his beer. I look over at Meghan and Braedan once more and then shake my head.

"Not really. Meghan and Claire always felt like sisters to me. Now Claire is and Meghan is getting closer." I think aloud and look back at him.

"You think Braedan will settle down long enough to get married?" He asks with disbelief. I nod my head and then look back at the Rose Red group at the table. "Go chat with them. It might be good to get to know some psychics outside the family."

"What about Meghan?" I ask and look back at him. He looks over at Braedan and the birthday girl. He then licks his lips, sighs heavily and turns back to me. I can see the disdain of the idea stretch across his entire face.

"I'll do my best to keep her at bay." He promises and finishes off his glass. He pours himself a new one and then heads over to Claire by the others. I head towards the Rose Red group, maneuvering past the crowd of people in the bar.

"Well, look who we have here." Nick speaks up playfully, takes a sip of his beer and then gives me warm smile. I smile back and for some reason feel like laughing. It was something with his expression; that stupid smile that was damn near a taunting, playful smirk. The others turn in their seats to look at who he was talking to.

"What are you doing here?" Cathy asks with a smile. I thrust a thumb backwards towards the party on the other side of the bar. I could hear Meghan's voice above all the noise.

"We're Irish. Can you tell?" I ask rhetorically, hinting at the drinking, singing and dancing. "I thought I would sneak away for a moment of peace."

"Well, don't be shy. Pull up a seat." Nick began and then his smile grows into that taunting, playful smirk. "Or do you have other _matters_ to attend to?"

"Not at the moment." I reply and pull a chair to the table. I sit down beside Nick and Pam, hands laced and leaning on the table.

"Luci!" I hear my name over the music and chatter. I look over my shoulder and see Braedan working his way past people. "What are you doing out here?"

"Trying to keep what little sanity I have left intact." I reply as he walks up behind me. He looks around the table, not recognizing the group I was sitting with.

"I thought your name was Ana." Pam remarks, drawing my attention to her.

"That's not her name either." Braedan responds, noticing the same look on the others' faces. "It's Luciana."

"My brother, Braedan here, calls me Luci and my other brother, Tristram," I pause and look back towards the mass of people singing at the back of the bar and point my older brother out, "That's him. He calls me, Ana."

Pam's lips form an 'O' as she nods her head slowly in understanding. Braedan places a hand on my shoulder to grab my attention.

"Are you coming back? Meghan's going to find you sooner or later." He was tired of watching his girlfriend like she was his daughter.

"I'll come back over when it's time to sing '_breithlá sona duit'." I reply and tilt my head back to look up at him. He nods his head and then walks away. I know he had wanted me to introduce the people to him. He was the overprotective one and Tristram the pushy one._

"What's that?" Cathy asks as I look back at the group.

"What's what?"

"Bre-ah son-a du-it." She tries to pronounce the phrase and I can't help but let out a small laugh.

"Do you mean _breithlá sona duit?" She nods her head at me. "It means happy birthday in Gaelic."_

"Are they twins?" I look to Pam and then back at my brothers who were standing beside each other, looking over at us every now and then. I understand why she thinks they are twins. Both of them have the strawberry blonde hair. Braedan has always liked it long and Tristram has always liked it short, but not too short. Both of them have green eyes, though, Braedan's seem to be more hazel. Their faces were very similar; egg shaped heads, almond eyes, small ears, and small noses.

"No, they just look alike." I reply after a moment more and smile at her.

"Are you the youngest?" Nick pipes up, wrapping both of his hands around his glass. He waits patiently for my reply with his eyes glued to me. I shake my head, my golden locks bouncing. "You don't appear older than them. So you must be the middle child then. How lucky."

"Not so much luck as it misfortune." I comment with a laugh. "I love my brothers, but they really get under my skin sometimes."

"Oh, there's Vic." Cathy pipes up and sits up straighter in her seat. Vic moves through the crowd and sits back in his chair at the table. He looks slightly better than when he had gone to the bathroom. I had thought he was on the way to his grave then.

"We thought you were lost." Nick speaks up with a warm smile.

"No, just misplaced." Vic replies as I laugh at the pun.

"May I propose a toast?" Cathy asks and raises her glass. The others follow and I am left to watch. "To Rose Red."

They all cheer Rose Red and then take a drink. To me it was strange. Why toast to something that had caused so much fear and pain? It didn't seem right. I watch Cathy shiver from the taste of the bitter alcohol and smile. I wasn't a drinker either.

"Joyce, she's looking… still hoping for one more." Vic stares off at the table as the words slip past his lips. "Seven. Seven is a number."

"A girl. A teenager and I think our dear professor will be in luck." Nick concludes with a smirk and takes a sip of his drink. He notices me staring at him and sets his glass back on the table. "What's your little trick, Vic?"

Nick looks across the table at Victor and waits with his hands on his glass.

"Two people. In their mid-twenties." He begins, staring off once again. "She's in a blue dress. He's in jeans. He's blonde, over golden, with a case of Roman hands and Russian fingers."

I narrow my eyes at Vic for only a moment. As the couple walk past the table I now realize what his trick is.

"You're precognitive." I announce and give him a smile.

"Treś chic." Nick comments with a grin. Pam gives a laugh and looks around the table. Her eyes land on Cathy.

"What about you, Ana?" She asks with excitement.

"Uh, well. I'm kind of a jack of all trades in a way." I don't want to tell them. At least not right away.

"Come now. You're amongst friends." Nick tries to urge me to divulge more, but I only shake my head.

"I would rather not scare you off." I admit and look around the table. An idea pops into my head.

"Cathy?" Pam turns her sights on the woman trying to suffer her drink.

"I'm an automatic writer." She replies, then lifts a hand and pretends to write something in the air.

"Ah, the Ouija Board." Nick picks up his drink and takes a sip.

"I don't like the Ouija Board." Cathy reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen and paper. "Someone concentrate hard. You, Pam."

"Oh, uh. Okay." Pam gives a small unsure laugh and then closes her eyes tightly, thinking hard. Cathy begins to scribble on the paper, her lines making small connecting circles. Suddenly her hand jerks and she begins to draw hearts. Then a name.

"Steve!" Nick blurts out with a bright grin and turns his eyes on Pam. She quickly snatches the paper away and hides it under the table.

"What about you, Steve- I mean Nick." She stumbles and laughs nervously. Nick laughs as well and then pulls his glass closer to him. He stares down at the golden liquid as though it were telling him some great secret.

"He calls her Dee." His voice is soft, but I hear him. "Now why does he do that, I wonder."

He blows at his glass and the beer ripples.

"Nick?" Pam asks again and then looks at the others, questioning silently whether he was alright or not. Nick breaks from his trance and looks up.

"Oh, I-I do a little of this, a little of that. Sometimes I get lucky and this turn out alright." He replies as cryptic as I had. A smirk slithers onto my lips without my meaning to. It was amusing though to see him stutter. I was beginning to think he was the unbreakable man.

"What about you, Pam?" I ask and look over at her. She quickly sets down her drink, not thinking that anyone was going to ask her.

"I'm what psychic journals call a 'touch-know'." She begins and looks around the group somewhat sheepishly. She was just as uncomfortable talking about her ability as I was. I had to give her the gold though. At least she was coming clean about it. "Sometimes when I handle things I get feelings. Though a lot of times there's nothing."

"Oh, so you're a psychometrist." The term 'touch-know' was unfamiliar to me. It must be new.

"A what?" Pam asks suddenly. Now she was confused.

"A Token-Object Reader. I have a cousin who's one too." I clarify.

"There's more than one psychic in your family?" Cathy asks somewhat surprised. It seems so natural to me that there be more than one in the family, but seeing her and the others' faces makes me realize just how uncommon it is.

"A lot more." I admit.

"And what about our new friend? Emery?" Nick asks and sets down his empty glass. I don't say anything. I was taught long ago that if you have nothing nice to say then don't say anything at all.

"You're friend. Not mine." Pam grimaces and slumps in her seat. I give a small snort at her words.

"I think that he's mainly post-cognitive." Cathy speaks up and looks around the table. "He sees the past."

A small silence engulfs our table making the chatter and music in the bar seem so much louder. I look back over my shoulder and watch as the birthday bash continues on without me. Both of my brothers have their girls wrapped up in their arms and they were laughing. I feel a little left out, but then again, I always feel left out. The price I pay for my _gifts_ was being alone even when I was surrounded.

"A toast." Vic raises his glass and looks around at us. "Good thoughts, good will."

The group raises their glasses and repeats his toast, glasses clinking together. I ignore them and continue to watch my friends, wishing I had what they had; wishing that I had someone to love.

"So what can your brothers do, Ana?" Pam asks as she sets her glass on the table. I turn around and lick my lips.

"Braedan's a Dowser." I reply as Pam looks around the table and my eyes follow. "He can locate objects. Without the use of dowsing rods, crystals or any other ridiculous tool, might I add. It's kind of useless though unless you need to find a pin in a hay stack. He's becoming a pretty good empathy too."

"Dowsing rods, are those the metal rods that cross when you've found water?" Pam's excitement makes me laugh. I nod my head and pick up my drink. "And Tristan?"

"Tristram." I correct. "He can read auras and he's been trying to do energy healing."

"Three psychic siblings. How do your parents feel about that?" Cathy asks and looks from me to my brothers in the background.

"Couldn't be happier." I laugh as I think about it.

"You said your parents were psychic as well." Nick begins a new topic and leans on the table, hands laced before him. I snap out of my memories and look to him. Nick watches me with a soft, caring smile and waits for me to answer.

"Yeah. Mama's a Clairvoyant Medium." I reply, feeling as though I was under a microscope.

"Forgive me, but I've never heard of such a thing."

"Most haven't, but it's real. Normal clairvoyants get images, feelings, senses from living people. Clairvoyant Mediums-"

"Get them from the dead." Nick finishes and nods his head. "Interesting. Is she the only one in the family with this talent?"

"Right now she is. Actually she's the first since, I think, one of our ancestors back in the 1700s." I reply as I try and remember. I look over at Vic and smile. "My papa is precognitive."

"Ana!" I hear Tristram call and look over my shoulder. He waves at me to come over and I nod. I slowly pick myself up from my seat and push my chair back to the empty table it had come from.

"I think I'm going to say goodnight now." I announce as I move my gaze from one to the next.

"Goodnight then." Nick replies and smiles warmly. I give a small wave, say goodbye and then walk over into the crowd to sing happy birthday. Tristram comes up beside me.

"Have fun?"

"Some. At least until they wanted to know things about me." I reply honestly. "They ask a lot of questions."

Tristram only laughs and then joins in with the singing. I look over at the table, seeing the others getting up from their seats. They look over at our crowd and wave at me. Nick does a little, charming salute and then follows the others.

"He sees what we see." Tristram's voice sounds in my ear softly. I look up at him and let the smile fall from my face. "And I think he likes it."

I look back towards the center of the circle. Meghan takes a deep breath, closes her eyes to make a wish and then blows out the candles.

"Happy birthday!" We all cheer.


	6. Chapter 6: Meet the Wheaton Sisters

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

The week comes and goes slower than I expect. After Meghan's birthday I had gone home, taken a shower and then crawled into bed. There I had stayed until noon the next day. When I had awoken it seemed as though times was standing still. The day had come anyway though. My Memorial Day holiday was going to start with stopping by Tristram's and then later in the afternoon I would head to Beaumont University to meet the Rose Red group.

"Come on Seamus!" I shout as I hit the bottom step of the stairs. I look back up and see him lying at the top, ears drooping. I give a small laugh as I gather my hair and tie it out of my face in a simple ponytail. I can feel it brush below my shoulders as I shake my head at the hound staring at me. I fix the waistband of the jeans I was wearing and then readjust my v-neck t-shirt.

"There will be plenty of kids there today to ogle at you and play with you and give you treats and food that I don't want you to have." I sing-song and place my hands on my hips. He doesn't fall for it. He may look like a dumb hound, but he was smart. "Get down here."

Seamus picks himself up and slowly descends the stairs with his head hung low. I roll my eyes at him, 'tsk' and then head into the living room. I pick up my gladiator sandals and quickly throw them on before grabbing my bright blue duffle bag as well as my jacket. I stand in the middle of the room and then look at Seamus.

"Ready?" I ask. He only sits there, tail wagging and mouth open. I smile at him and pat his head. I then look around the room and into the kitchen. I don't believe I'm forgetting anything. "Alright, let's go!"

It normally takes about forty-five minutes to get to Kenmore, where my older brother lives, from my home on Lost Lake. The trip was made fifteen minutes longer with Seamus, but I do end up at my destination around nine. I pull up to the two-story home and release Seamus. He disappears into the backyard, telling me that everyone was already outback. I lock my car and walk into the back. I could smell the grill heating up already.

"There she is! My sweet, little _iníon!_" My mama cries and gets up from the picnic table. She walks over to greet me and pulls me into a tight embrace. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, Máthair." I reply and hug her back. She releases me and holds me at arm's length, looking me over from head to foot and back up again.

"Seclusion has been kind to you." She comments and rubs her hands up and down my arms comfortingly. I know the look in her eyes; worry.

"I'm fine, mama." I answer her unspoken question. She gives a small nod and then pulls me to her for another hug. I look over my mama's shoulder and see papa.

"Hi papa!" I call over at him. He looks away from the grill and waves at me. I spot Braedan and Meghan on the deck and little Ceilí playing with Seamus. "Hi Ceilí!"

"Aunt Luci!" She screams and bolts for me. She leaps into my open arms and I pick her up, holding her on my hip.

"How are you?" I ask with a loving smile.

"Good. Is Seamus really staying with me?" She asks in a small voice. I laugh and nod my head. She gives a small squeal and then tries to remove herself from my grasp. She runs after Seamus, making me shake my head.

"That dog is all she's talked about today!" I look back at the deck and see Claire closing the back door. She looks to me and smiles, walking down the steps. "She loves him."

"How can you not!" Meghan calls out from where she sat on the railing of the deck. I roll my eyes and walk over to the picnic table. I sit down and stretch, giving a big yawn. Mama sits beside me and places a hand over one of mine. She gently squeezes it. I go to speak, but before I can a series of shouts come from the front of the house. I look over my shoulder and see several of my cousins walking into the backyard. It was starting; mayhem.

Around one I decide that it is time for me to leave. The house, the garage every speck of land on the property was now filled with relatives. It's loud and it's crowded.

I say goodbye to my brothers and then my friends before walking outside to find papa and mama amidst the sea of people. I bob and weave through them and find papa talking to his sisters. I say goodbye and ask if he's seen mama anywhere.

"Last I saw her, she was in the house." He replies. I walk away and back into the house. I hadn't seen mama in some time. It's strange. She's such an outgoing person and for her to just seek seclusion was throwing up all sorts of red flags.

"Mama?" I ask as I open bedroom doors. I had searched the first floor and now I had finished with the second. The only place left is the basement. I head that way and close the door behind me. The stairwell is oddly quiet, but I can see a light is on somewhere in the den.

"Mama?" I call out and walk down the steps. The air is cold and makes me shiver. I step off the bottom step and round the stairs. My mama is at the back of the room looking at pictures hung on the wall. "What are you doing down here?"

Mama doesn't look back at me. She doesn't say anything either or make any sign that she had heard me at all. I walk up beside her and look at the pictures. Some were of my brothers and I. Others were of just Tristram and his family. Then there were some that make my heart stop.

The photo that my eyes are glued to is of my brothers, me and a group of several other people. My heart begins to ache and my throat tightens. This was a picture of the last paranormal expedition I did.

I look to my mama, unable to stare at the photo any longer. My mama isn't a much better sight. She looks as though she is lost in a trance. I have seen her like this before. It never means anything good.

"Mama?" I ask gently, hoping to pull her out of her current state. She doesn't even twitch. "**Mama**?"

"Those who pretend to be something they are not, only make themselves ridiculous." She spoke quietly. "It's no use trying to hide what cannot be hidden."

"What did you just say?" I ask slowly as I narrow my eyes at her. She blinks and then looks away from the wall of pictures. She jumps, noticing me.

"You snuck up on me." She holds a hand over her heart and gives a nervous laugh. She notices the look on my face. "Honey, why it looks as though you've seen a ghost. Are you alright?"

"...yeah." I reply after a moment and blink away what she had said only moments ago. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm going to take off. I have to meet the group at two."

"Well okay then. If you must." She smiles and pulls me into an embrace. She rubs my back and then releases me. "I love you."

"I love you too." I reply and then head towards the stairs. I look back at her before leaving, seeing her staring at the photos again. She gives a sigh and then laughs.

"Oh, what am I going to do with you three?" She laughs once more and I know that she is staring at the photo of her three children. I turn away and walk up the stairs, heading outside to the driveway.

I get in my car and head down WA-522 West till I hit I-5 South. I take the highway for nearly a half hour and then the city comes into view. It takes a little bit for me to navigate the city streets, but soon I find myself in the Beaumont University parking lot.

I turn off the engine, but I don't get out. I stare down at the dashboard and think over what my mother had said. It was odd to say the least. It had struck a very sensitive nerve. Whether or not the words had been meant for me was still a mystery.

I pick my duffle bag up from the passenger's seat and move to open my door, but my cell phone goes off. I struggle to pull it out of my jeans, but do. I look down at it and see I have been sent a text message from an unknown number. It reads:

_Precautions are useless after the event. A villain may disguise their self, but they will not deceive the wise._

"What the Hell?" I look up from my phone and stare out my windshield. This was no coincidence. I didn't believe in them. Something was trying to make its point to me clear; very clear. I look back down at the text again, the words almost staring back at me with judgment. I quickly close out of it and shove it into my duffle bag.

I open my door and get out in haste, pulling along my duffle and jacket with me. As I walk the campus I try to remember my own experience at college. I had earned a degree in history and ancient cultures at Cornell before moving Washington. I would have stayed in New York, but there were... _circumstances_ that wouldn't allow it.

I yell at myself to stop thinking about it. I need to stop thinking about it.

I spot the group up ahead on the path. Nick was talking about something interesting because both Cathy and Pam were amused. Either that or Nick had captured their hearts. He was a charmer.

I readjust my duffle that hangs on my shoulder and continue on. I stop suddenly, seeing that the strap keeping my sandal on was twisted. I kneel down, undo it and just as I am redoing it I hear the most obnoxious sound. I lift my gaze and watch as an old robin's egg blue Volvo pulls up along the sidewalk. Inside I could see Emery and, who I can only guess, his mother; Mrs. Waterman. They climb out, slamming the doors and Emery all but runs from the car.

"Don't make me chase you, Emmy!" His mother calls out and jogs to catch up to her son who was pulling on a bright red hiking pack.

"No, I'm okay!" He calls back, but she catches him and makes him stop. I stand from the ground and walk up to the group.

"Hi." Pam greets and gives me a smile. I smile back and set my duffle bag on the ground, laying my jacket on top of it.

"What is going on?" I ask as I continue to watch Emery fight to escape his mother's grasp.

"You call me anyway so I know you're alright!" Mrs. Waterman suddenly yells and pulls Emery back in front of her. I give a little jump at how loud her voice was. Emery says something back to her and then points to us. "Well, let them wait!"

I can't help but to feel sorry for Emery as his mother turns him around and fixes his pack. I bite my bottom lip, nearly in pain at the sight of Emery's anguish. It was no wonder that he was so miserable.

"And stay away from that blonde girl." Mrs. Waterman's voice catches my ear once more. "She looks like a tramp."

Pam and I instantly look at each other. She was wearing a dress with a coat over it and I was wearing tight jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. She was talking about me; obviously. I look back at Mrs. Waterman and Emery.

"Uh, excuse me!" I yell out and grab Mrs. Waterman's attention. I take a step forward from the group and give a sickeningly sweet smile and a fake wave. I was not in the mood to be called a tramp. "Could you speak up next time! This **tramp **can't hear _ignorance_ very well!"

Pam gives a small laugh as I stand pissed off. Mrs. Waterman says something to Emery, heatedly, and looks away from me.

"Tramp... humph...!" I grumble to myself and then look down at my clothes. I didn't think I looked bad or sleazy. I was comfortable. I turn back to the group and grab my duffle bag and jacket. I give another 'humph' and cross my arms over my chest.

"Bad day?" Nick asks and I can see the grin trying to make its way to his lips. "Or just tired of blonde's getting the short end of the stick?"

"A **very** bad day." I reply and pick up my jacket. I pull it on, but don't zip it up. I look back at Emery and his mother in time to see her kiss him on the lips. I close my eyes tightly, pucker my lips and turn away. Gross.

"Well, friends I see new frontiers in abnormal psychology stretching out before us." Nick speaks up and I don't even have to open my eyes to know there is a smirk on his lips. "How exciting."

"Especially if you move your bowels!" Were Mrs. Waterman's last words before she climbs into her car. I open my eyes and look across the group at Nick. He smirks at me and then looks over my head as Emery walks up.

"Gosh," He starts, "the day before summer camp must have been a busy time in the Waterman household."

"Shut up!" Emery snaps as he continues to wipe off the lipstick from his lips. Nick gives a small shrug and looks around at us. I shake my head look back at the van that sat a few feet away. This was surely our ride to Rose Red.

My cell phone vibrates in my duffle bag. I pull it out and look at the screen. It was an unknown number again, but this time it wasn't a text.

"Hello?" I ask, but no one replies. I wait a moment and listen to dead air. Something crinkles, rasps like a TV being turned to a station with no programming. "Is someone there?"

Suddenly a loud screeching rings through the phone and makes yelp. My ears are burning. I pull the phone away and place my free hand to my ear. I end the call.

"Is everything alright, Ana?" Cathy asks and watches me closely. I look to her and nod, grimacing from my throbbing eardrum. I pocket my phone and let my hand fall from my ear.

"Ana! I didn't see you sneak by." Joyce smiles at me with Steven Rimbauer at her side. She's carrying two cases in each hand. I nod my head and she walks away with Rimbauer behind her like a puppy. They walk to a van parked several feet away and begin loading things on.

"Excuse me," A voice calls from behind Nick. I lean right and stare at the young woman who has at her side a teenage girl. "Is this the group?"

The group turns to look at her and the other girl.

"Do you mean the Rose Red group?" Pam offers and the young woman with black hair nods. "Uh, yes. I'm Pam Asbury."

Pam takes a step forward with her hand outstretched. The woman takes it and they shake. Pam then introduces us all to her.

"This is Annie and I'm her sister, Rachel. But everyone just calls me sister or sissy." She explains with nervousness in her voice. "I was sure we were going to miss you. The traffic was awful."

"Well, we're sure glad you didn't." Nick replies with a smile.

"Oh! Rachel!" Joyce's voice floats over the air. She walks briskly over to us and pushes passed us to get to Rachel. I shake my head and look away. "Or do you prefer sister?"

"Either is fine." She replies quickly.

"And this must be Annie." Joyce's tone changes instantly. I look back at her and watch as she stares at the teenager. She is a small girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, with brown hair and matching eyes. In her arms she carries a Raggedy Anne doll. I study the teenager carefully and notice that she's not all quite here. She is here enough to notice my staring and look at me. Our eyes lock and it's the strangest thing. I feel a small itch against my skull as though something was trying to get in. This girl is a telepath.

The wheels on the bikes sitting chained in the rack behind Rachel and Annie start to spin uncontrollably. My eyes lock on them for a moment before shooting back to Annie. I am sure that she has done this. Whether to show off, for fun or to try and frighten us I can't decide.

"Oh Annie stop..." Rachel whines and looks down at her sister. The girl does nothing. I stare down at her, our eyes locking. Is she testing all of us or just me? Does she know my secret?

"Just quit it...!" Rachel snaps and the wheels stop dead. I notice out of the corner of my eyes that Joyce looks between Annie and me. She has a question on her mind.

"God... she's retarded." Emery breathes out. I want to say something, but I can't take my eyes from the girl. She looks away though. Emery's words hurt her.

"If you would keep your psychological analysis of Miss Wheaton to yourself, then we won't ask you any embarrassing questions about your relationship with your mother. Chin, chin?" Nick's voice is harder then I have heard before. All sense of playfulness was gone.

"Ana?" I hear Joyce ask and feel the others eyes on me. She steps up beside me. "Was that you or Annie?"

"I don't know." I reply honestly and knit my eyebrows together in hard thought, keeping my eyes on Annie. I didn't know which one of us had stopped the bike wheels. Perhaps both, startled by Rachel's voice, snapped back into reality. This girl has real power like me, but she isn't afraid to use it. She's young. She hasn't learned her lesson yet.

"What do you mean?" Cathy pipes up and looks from Joyce, to me and then to the others in the group. Joyce and I say nothing in response to her question. My eyes are laser locked with Annie's.

"Well folks," Joyce speaks up after another moment of studying Annie and me. "I think we're ready."

I feel the presence of the others slowly disappear. Annie walks passed me with her sister closely at her side. Joyce greets her and leads them towards the van. I turn and watch them go.

Something just wasn't right about the girl. Not her herself, but **about** her; something _around_ her. I can't place my finger on it, but I sense it. It was as though some kind of bubble had engulfed her. I can feel it, but can't break through to reach the girl.

"Ana?" I hear Nick's voice, but I am too concentrated. This has never happened to me before. It was like two magnets that you try to pull apart after bringing together. Nick stands before me, slightly to the left in my peripheral vision, staring down at me with a curious expression. "What is it? What do you sense?"

I blink, realizing he was reading my mind. I hadn't been protecting myself. I look to him and take a deep breath. I look around the campus and shake my head free of my thoughts, the feelings.

"It's nothing." I reply and then pick up my duffle bag. I slip it onto one shoulder and then look at him again, offering my best smile. Had he not seen some of my thoughts he might have believed me. My smile drops and leaves me cold. We say nothing more and head towards the van.

Today was a bad omen, but despite knowing this I climb into the back seat of the van anyways. I look out the back window, trying to ignore the fact that I was sharing a seat with Emery.

"Ignorance is bliss." I breathe out softly and then blow hot air against the glass. I pick up a finger and draw an eight point star before slouching in my seat and closing my eyes.


	7. Chapter 7: Welcome to Rose Red

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

The ride is shorter than I expect. In all honesty, I have no idea where in Washington Rose Red was located. I didn't feel that it was worth my time to figure that part out. Especially since I didn't have to drive myself to it.

In no time I feel the van begin to slow. Its breaks squeak harshly in protest as it comes to a complete stop.

"Gosh..." Cathy pipes up from the seat ahead of me. I crack an eye and look at the back of Pam's head before me and then to hers. "It's almost as though... well, it's almost as though it's staring right at us."

"...it is Cathy." Nick declares for everyone in the car who was wondering themselves. I close my eye again as the car is consumed by silence. "Steve? You okay?"

I don't bother to crack an eye this time, but I listen as Nick's question falls on deaf ears.

"Fine." Steve's voice betrays his response, but no one questions him further. I hear a small click. No doubt the opener for the gate. Then the car lurches awake and we are driving slowly onto the grounds of Rose Red.

I refuse to open my eyes when I hear the others begin to move once the car has stopped again. I was half way between dreamland and reality, not in the mood to make a decision about one over the other. I also don't want to be here at Rose Red with this group. Between Joyce's begging, Tristram's urging and my family's unrelenting criticism of my recent behavior over the years, I had no other choice but to show up today at Beaumont University.

The others climb out of the van unskillfully. I curl up as much as I can in my seat and lean my head against the glass of the window, my hood over my head. The back doors open and I hear movement behind me where some of the luggage and equipment have ridden the entire way. The voices of the others fade away as they undoubtedly head towards the house. I hear the soft tap of a finger against a metal case and then a long sigh of consideration.

"Do you think we should wake her?" I hear Steven Rimbauer ask as he gently, quietly tugs a case out from the back. I am a little surprised that he is being thoughtful. Perhaps I misjudged him. "Or should we let her sleep since it seems like she really needs it?"

"Let's not wake her... at least for the moment. I too believe she could use the rest. She seems to have last slept some years ago and never found the time to catch up." Nick replies and pulls something out of the van, not knowing just how right he was. "We'll let her sleep just a little while longer."

I haven't had much sleep over the years. With a combination of reoccurring night terrors, still developing abilities and paranormal groupie researchers, who refused to give me space or lose my ever-changing phone number, I have found little time or want to sleep.

"Alright, but if Joyce asks, it was your idea." Steve replies as I hear him pull something else out of the van.

"That's fine." Nick returns. I silently thank Nick and Steve and allow sleep to completely claim me. It is an uneasy sleep, but it is still sleep and I that's what I need; sleep; rest; a moment's peace. My dreams are odd to say the least. They're filled with strange noises, strange scents, even people with wisps of black mist covering up their faces. I recognize nothing; at first. Slowly I know the noises. I know the smells. The mist dissipates and I can see faces; familiar, horrifying faces.

I jolt awake at a sharp shake to my shoulder. I jump, seeing Emery's round face so close to me. I relax somewhat into my seat once I realize that I'm safe... ish.

"Time to wake up." Emery barks, nose scrunched and slightly red from allergies. He wiggles his nose a little and his glasses jostle up and down. His breathing is heavy and is propelled in my direction. I nod my head and offer a small smile in return. He slips out of the van as I sit up and look around a moment. I slide myself into the empty seat beside me and throw my duffle bag out the open door onto the gravel of the driveway. I then lean my head back against the headrest to my seat and stare at the off colored fabric of the ceiling.

"Did you wake Luciana, Emery?" Nick's unmistakable voice floats to my ears.

"Yeah, but I'm not being paid for my services as an alarm clock." Emery snaps and walks away, his footsteps heavy and clumsy. "Or as a porter either!"

I can't help but let out low giggles. Emery was one of those people you want to hit for no reason at all and say that it was for the next stupid thing that leaves his mouth. I hear a second pair of more gathered, meaningful footsteps and then a small tap as hands are placed on the van. I slowly open my tired eyes and stare at Nick who stands in the open door. He watches me with a pleased grin.

"Good afternoon sleepy head." He greets and leans against the far side of the open door. "The forecast for the day is sixty-four degrees with clear skies and a slightly cooler temperature of fifty-five degrees later this evening."

I give a laugh and then sigh with a content smile on my lips. He is so good natured and friendly that I'm sure he makes friends at the snap of his fingers.

"Real cute." I comment and move from my seat. I step out of the van and stretch, leaning back to force my spine to pop. I yawn and return to a straight stance, looking around the grounds for the first time. My eyebrows knit together almost instantly. This is Rose Red? Photos don't do it justice.

"Will you be joining us inside the house or are you more comfortable with this sad, cramped little van?" Nick jokes, but I don't answer his question.

"I know this place..." I whisper and scan the grounds again. Nick looks at me and then at the house, the grounds in slight bewilderment. I take another step forward and turn around slowly to take it all in, nodding my head. "I've definitely been here before..."

"To Rose Red? When? And why?" Nick's voice sounds far gone. It is as though it was being pulled away from me with every syllable. I continue to look around. I see the fountain, the front doors of the house, the woods that surround it. It is so surreal that I question whether I am still dreaming or not.

I grimace and close my eyes. My face twists; a sharp pain runs through my head. I see a thick fog and listen as silence engulfs me. The sky is an odd color of grey. I catch a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of my eyes. Another shadow flashes past me. I hear whispers on the wind. They surround me. They call my name. They tell me to come home, that they are waiting; have been waiting... for me.

The precognitive-telepathic dream flashes before my eyes like a movie on fast-forward. As the pain grows, so does the dream. Images I haven't seen before flash in my mind; people I don't know, places I have never seen or been to.

"Luciana?" Nick calls gently to me. I don't hear him. My mind is in another place. The dream takes me before the gates of Rose Red. Slowly they open of their own accord. Next I am before the front double doors of the house. Again, they open of their own accord. I hear a clock ticking in the distance and then the soft beat of a heart.

_Bad-dump... bad-dump… bad-dump..._

"Luciana." Nick places a hand on my shoulder and I snap out of the dream. I blink several times and try to remember where I am. My eyes land on Nick, who stares at me as though awaiting something, but I don't know what.

"Did you say something?" I ask carefully, trying to play off how uncomfortable the house was making me.

"I asked if you were alright." His voice soothes me and brings me back to earth, grounding me. I give my best smile and nod, trying to convince the both of us. "If you're sure then..."

He isn't buying it and why should he? I am a crappy liar.

"Positive." I reply in a small voice, smile beginning to falter. "Thank you for asking though."

He wants to say something more, but he's a gentleman and gentlemen respect people and their privacy. So, he lets it go. At least, for the time being, but as he stares at me I am sure that he will soon bring it up again.

"Ana! Nick! Is everything alright over there?" Joyce calls out from the porch of the house. Both of us turn and look at her in her bright red shirt.

"Everything's fine, Joyce!" Nick calls back and looks to me. His eyes ask, '...isn't it?'.

I turn away from his gaze and give Joyce a small wave to satisfy her curiosity.

"Well, then come on inside!" She smiles and waves for us to come over. "I want to give you all a tour of the house!"

She disappears back into the cavern she calls an artifact. I move to my duffle bag and pick it up. I turn to Nick and raise my eyebrows once, a silent joke at Joyce's enthusiasm. I begin to walk towards the house, but stop when I feel a tug on the strap of my duffle.

"Allow me." Nick slides the bag off my shoulder and places it on his own. He smiles somewhere between a grin and a smirk, making me suspicious of what was going on inside of his head. It could be anything.

"What?" I ask slowly, almost accusing him of something I don't know he's done. He looks back and forth between my eyes a moment, his expression never changing. He's found something he was looking for, but I can't begin to imagine what it might be.

"I trust that, if there is ever a time this weekend, when you feel you cannot confide in the others about something... let's say _personal,_ shall we?" He begins and places a hand on my shoulder, "That you will feel comfortable enough to speak freely with me. I assure you that I am a neutral party and will neither judge nor recommend anything until I understand completely where you are coming from."

His words strike me. They make me uncomfortable at first. They were meant to be kind, consoling words, but to me they were so new. Never before has anyone told me I could talk to them about anything I want, whether it is the weather or something more troubling. Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, I feel... accepted.

"I'll remember that and I may very well take you up on your offer if," I reply slowly and then lick my lips. I want to just accept his offer without a stipulation, but _this _was non-negotiable, "...if you promise to stop trying to read my mind. I really don't appreciate my privacy being invaded."

He gives a small soft snort of a laugh and looks towards the house. I stare at him a moment and then realize he wasn't going to reply. Whether this was a silent agreement or a disagreement, I don't know.

"Joyce is wondering when we'll be joining the others inside." He speaks up and looks back at me with a smirk. It was an agreement.

"Then we better not stray any longer." I reply, heading towards the house with Nick following closely behind me. I walk into the house and head towards the others who stand by a table placed between the double stairs on either side of the entrance hall. I go to remove my jacket, but instead zip it up as far as it will go, turning it into a turtleneck. It gives me little comfort from the cold I feel wrapping itself around me.

"Here; take this, Ana." I wake from my thoughts and look down at the flashlight being handed to me by Steve. I take it, not knowing what it was for. "The lights in the house aren't reliable and neither is Pugit Sound Energy. So I suggest you keep it on you at all times just in case."

"Thanks." I nod my head and grip the flashlight tightly as I look around the entrance hall. It was exactly as I remember. There is a double staircase, marble pillars, wooden walls, oil paintings. It was hauntingly beautiful.

"Alright, I think we better get started." Joyce pipes up with a smile as she looks around at all of us. I set the flashlight down on the table, telling myself that I will come back for it once the sun had gone down and then take a strap of my duffle bag from Nick's shoulder. His head snaps to me, somewhat startled. I narrow my eyes at him in question.

"Are _you _alright?" It was my turn to ask.

"For the moment; yes." He replies, expression returning to normal. "I may read minds, but that doesn't mean I can't be taken by surprise sometimes."

"But shouldn't you be able to sense me?" I ask, honestly confused as he releases the rest of my bag. He straightens himself and stares down at me as though I have just revealed his biggest secret. I look behind me at the others and then turn my attention back to him.

"You're a," I stop once more and lick my lips, turning to mouthing the phrase 'remote viewer' before continuing, "...aren't you?"

"How do you-" He begins, but I miss the rest. My mind is taken over by sudden tingling feeling washing over me. My eyebrows knit together for a moment before my head snaps towards the front doors of the house.

"...Annie." I breathe out as my eyes grow slightly wide. Right after me, Rachel screams out Annie's name and looks fervently towards the open front doors for her lost sister. Annie walks in with her Raggedy Anne doll and then the doors slam shut with a resonating _thump_. Annie smiles and walks towards us while I am left to face Nick's pensive gaze.

He is fighting to respect my privacy despite how curious he is about what is going on in my head. I can tell that just by one look, even though he has superb self control, that he rarely uses it when it comes to reading minds. There is something else though in those light blue eyes. Another curiosity that I have seen before with many people. It's another question:

What are you?

I don't dare speak for I fear my voice would betray me. I swallow hard and look back at Annie, who walks towards her sister. I have never felt power quite like that before except my own. It had done something no one else's power had done before; frightened me.

"She's wonderful." Joyce's dreamy toned voice catches everyone's attention and pulls my eyes away from Annie. She is staring at Annie like some kind of Eighth World Wonder; a gift from God. I don't completely disagree with her on that note. Annie is quite amazing. Her abilities, telepathy and telekinesis, where already a unique gift in themselves since they are so uncommon, but the fact that they both were dreadfully advanced for someone her age with her disabilities made it even more unbelievable.

The one thing that Joyce either doesn't realize or refuses to acknowledge is that with power like Annie's or my own, there comes a bright red, flashing warning label:

**EXCEPTIONALLY HAZARDOUS  
****HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE AND CAUTION**

Joyce lifts a tape recorder from her pocket without removing her gaze from Annie and clicks it on. Her expression troubles me more than I care to admit. It reminds me of someone I used to know; someone who had become obsessed with the paranormal; someone who lost their grip on reality and went insane.

"Friday afternoon. Three seventeen pm." Joyce takes a deep breath and her smile grows into a grin. "We've just experienced our first paranormal phenomenon; a phantom draft."

I look up at Nick, who stands only three or four inches taller than myself, and don't bother to hide my feelings. I let him know that Joyce's reactions to the paranormal were beginning to worry me. I let him know that things, paranormal things, were starting.

He lays a comforting hand gently on my back as he turns his attention to Joyce. I've met enough mind readers to know the expression they get when actually reading a mind and Nick has it. What he was searching for or what he was reading is another story entirely. When he has found it he doesn't tell me. I believe he thinks it will make things worse, but little does he realize that, in doing that, he is making me worry even more.

"Let's get started. Shall we?" Joyce looks around at everyone. She picks up two coils of rope from the table, hands one to Nick and then throws the other over her shoulder. I drop my duffle bag, pull the sleeves of my jacket over my hands, cross my arms and follow the others behind her. We round the table in between the double staircase and head through a set of double doors.

As we walk through the doors I stop and look back into the entrance hall. I take a slow, steady step away from the door to the hallway and walk around the table. I stop by my duffle bag and open a side pocket. Inside it I find two polished, round crystals of different hues. I hold them tightly in my right hand, rotating them to help elevate the anxiety that was quickly rising within me. I zip my bag closed once more and then freeze. I stare at the floor I was kneeling on and cease rotating the crystals. I slowly stand, clenching the crystals tightly and look around the entrance hall.

I can swear that something is there watching me from the shadows, but I don't see anything. Everything is so still; so calm, but so cold. I give a small shiver and wrap my arms around me. I listen carefully and in the distance, somewhere in the house, I hear the small _tick-tock_ of a grandfather clock.

"Luciana?" I look over my shoulder and see Nick standing in the doorway. He looks thoughtfully at me with a kind smile. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. I just..." I start and look down at my right hand. I give a small half laugh and show him the crystals. "I use them to help calm my anxiety."

I rotate them again. The pressure they place on the palm of my hand is soothing.

"They're like your very own worry Baoding balls." Nick comments with a wide smile and a laugh in his voice.

"Something like that." I give a small nod and smile back at him.

"Shall we rejoin the others? I'm afraid Joyce may find us and order we be executed." He jokes and stands aside from the door to allow me to pass. Just as I do, I stop.

"Do you hear that?" I inquire and raise a finger towards the ceiling while I stare down at nothing. Nick looks up for a moment and listens carefully.

_Tick... tock... tick... tock..._

"I didn't hear that before. Was it going when we came in?" He asks after another moment and looks down at me. I don't move my hand or my eyes, but I click my tongue and shake my head in reply.

"No, it wasn't." I answer and let my hand fall to my side. I look up at him and take a deep breath, sighing heavily. "I think it started when I was rummaging around in my bag."

Nick, at first, says nothing. He looks back around the entrance hall as though searching for something. Perhaps the clock. Maybe something else entirely. Again, he wasn't going to tell me.

"Let's get back to the others." He places a hand on the middle of my back and gives me a gentle push. We head down the hall and walk beside each other as we follow the others from a small distance. Nick leans down to my ear, his hot, moist breath tickling my skin. "This house isn't as much a dead cell as Joyce had us all believe."

"I realize that." I respond gently and look to him with a serious yet concerned face. "That's what I've worried about."


	8. Chapter 8: Let the Tour Begin

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

The hall is longer than I thought it would be. It seems to stretch for a mile, turning and twisting in all sorts of directions. Doors line each wall as well as photos. It's creepy; haunting. I have taken to walking at the back of the group with Nick and Emery right before me. It was quieter back here. I can actually think.

If I listen closely I can hear the clock still ticking. It has yet to miss a beat. If I listen even closer I swear there is another more disturbing sound. It is ever so soft and can easily be mistaken for a draft, but I, somewhere within me, know better. The house is breathing. It is very much alive and very much active. It's making me jittery like too much caffeine in my system.

"The one thing I will ask you all obey is that you don't go off exploring on your own. The geography of Rose Red can, at times, seem unstable. I would hate for any of you to get lost." Joyce's voice catches my attention. I look past the bodies of the others in the hall to her bright red shirt at the head of the line. I want to say 'yeah right', but I hold my tongue and roll my eyes instead.

"Maybe we should double up on sleeping arrangements then?" Pam asks almost instantly and looks around the vicinity right around her. It is obvious to tell that she was antsy and somewhat panicky over the whole idea of a 'psychic expedition'. She should be. These are no laughing matters. More bad things tend to happen than good.

"I don't mind sharing with Cathy. Or the four of us," Pam looks back at me, "can go in together like summer camp."

"I'll sleep with Emery and after midnight we'll raid the fridge." Nick wraps an arm around Emery's shoulders and grins mischievously. "Won't we, Em?"

"You can do what you want, but the important thing is not to go off wandering." Joyce replies as she opens another set of doors at the end of the hall. She stops to look around the new room a moment and then steps inside. "I think you all will find this interesting."

We all walk single file into the large kitchen. Two big tables made of a hard wood sit in the middle with several chairs scattered around them. The floors were checkered black and what used to be white tiles and the appliances look like something out of the twenties. It smells stuffy and dusty like any other old room that hadn't seen its doors or windows open in a very long time.

"You could make Thanksgiving dinner for a hundred people in here." Cathy comments with a small laugh as she takes everything in. I break from the group and stroll to the stove, examining it. There was dust here and there; cracks in the counter top, moldings and in the floor tiles; even what look to be mouse droppings in the corner. To say the least, I was not at home in this place.

"Maybe after the place was fumigated..." Emery retorts, pessimism seeming an endless supply with him. I look over at him and Nick, who stands beside him.

"You're such a charmer." Nick tells Emery and then passes him, smile leaving his lips. This time I agree with Emery. The kitchen needs serious cleansing before anyone makes anything in it for human consumption.

"Was I talking to you?" Emery snaps as Nick walks away. I ignore the group as they walk out into the, well I call it a sun porch, Joyce calls it the solarium and she explains that Ellen Rimbauer named it the 'Health Room'. I saunter around the kitchen while the others talk outside amongst the dead plants. My hands gently glide over the counters, the tables, the appliances and then stop as the second table closest to the left wall when I cease my examination of the room. I glance about the kitchen once more, taking everything in. I lay both hands firmly on its top and sigh softly to myself.

It all looks so... **normal**, but felt so _abnormal_. I have never felt anything quite like it before. Which, that in itself, was abnormal. I know that I should pay attention to this inkling telling me that something just wasn't quite right with this house, but I shoo it away. It's doing nothing but causing me to be even more anxious.

"...and then he'll win! That son of a bitch Miller will win in spite of everything! I can't have that!" Joyce's sudden shouts catch my attention and force me to stride over to the open door of the Health Room. I peer out at the others who stand in a circle around the flustered doctor. She was fuming about something or other that Miller has done, was going to do or is doing. "I-I just can't! I won't! I can't!"

"He doesn't get to win, Dee." Steven calms her down, placing a hand on her shoulder. She stares at him for a long moment as if coming back down to Earth. The others slowly begin to agree with Steven. This pleases Joyce.

I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. I wonder whether or not anyone else notices how unstable Joyce was becoming. She was one more outburst away from losing her cocoa puffs completely and being sent to a tiny white padded room at the Looney Bin forever. I also begin to wonder, as I look from one member of the group to the next, if any of them other than Nick realize how alive the house was despite being a 'dead cell'. I believe Pam does based on her behavior, but I can't tell whether or not she **actually** knows or just _senses _something is wrong with the place. Cathy seems to be too oblivious of her surroundings. Vick seems occupied with other thoughts like Pam. Emery... he's just slightly north of the border of absolute paranoia. Steven and Rachel have neither a psychic bone in their body nor intuition that I can see and little Annie...

I look to Annie who stands beside her sister, playing with her doll's hair. She's smiling to herself something. Perhaps it's a thought? She knows exactly what's going on at Rose Red though. She knew long before we arrived.

"On with the tour then, Dr. Reardon?" I ask from my spot at the doorframe. The others look back at me. They probably have just now realized that I hadn't been with them when they walked into the Health Room.

"Uh, yes." Her reply is slow, suspicious of me and my actions. I can tell she doesn't like how I use her title or the fact that I had wandered away from her precious little group of psychic mutants. "On with the show."

She leads the others back into the kitchen, giving me a look as she passes by. She eyes me up, accusing me silently of something. I suppose Tristram left out that I could be... well, _temperamental_ in certain situations like this one where an ignorant leader was in place. He also neglected to write down that I could be tenacious when I felt it was necessary. Obviously, Joyce was the same and cats don't play well with others. Especially when one of them was going to get someone hurt if they weren't careful.

"All right then." Joyce lifts herself onto the table I had been standing at moments before. I walk to the other table and lean against it, my lower back hitting the edge because of its height. I lean my elbows back on it.

"It's quite a pity no one kept up with those vines." Nick comments as he lifts himself to sit on the table beside me.

"I don't know. Gardens are meant to be outside, not" I gesture with my hands and ball or orb shape, "contained like that."

"Ah, so you're an outdoorswoman." He beams and sits oddly close to me; enough to make me turn my head slightly and see just how close. I could feel the heat radiate from him.

"Yes, I live on a lake in the middle of a forest." I enlighten the group and then lift myself onto the table beside him. I cross my ankles and swing them back and forth slowly as I lay my hands in my lap. Rachel sits beside me in a chair with Annie at her side.

"Are there others with homes on the lake?" Nick inquires and looks over at me. I shake my head and scratch the back of my neck with a single finger.

"Don't you ever get lonely?" Rachel asks from beside me, forcing me to look at her.

"Some times, but I got a dog to cure that." I answer and look from her to Nick, who I know was hanging on every word for some reason. "It's really not as bad as everyone thinks. I get a sunrise and a sunset over a lake every day. I get peace and quiet when my dog isn't barking like a lunatic and I can do pretty much whatever I want without having any nosy neighbors complaining."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Vick jumps in with a gentle smile. I just now realize that the prescription of his glasses were very strong, making his eyes look huge.

"It's not." I agree and smile back.

"Well, I believe we're lingering in the kitchen because Joyce wants to tell you all about my great Aunt April." Steven announces and looks to Joyce. "Go on Joyce."

"Are you sure?" She asks with a sheepish smile. He nods his head and lifts himself onto the table. I can't help but to watch Annie as she plays with Rachel's hair. She seems so innocent and, for all intensive purposes, she is. Her powers aren't though. I know this, but does she? Or anyone else, for that matter. I was beginning to feel as if I was the only one who understood anything about what we were doing and what we were dealing with. Then again, I doubt if any of the others had the _training_ that I did.

"April was six years old when she disappeared." Joyce began with a small disconcerting twinkle in her eyes. "Her brother, Adam, was away at boarding school."

"Boarding school at eight?" Cathy was shocked by this and the tone her voice had taken makes me laugh. I have to cover my mouth to hide it.

"Ah, it was Rimbauer's idea. Oh, Ellen ranted and raved, but John, at least this time, put his foot down and kept it down." Joyce sounds too happy, like there was a hop in her step. "He didn't trust Rose Red even then."

"I wonder why..." I speak under my breath, trying to block out Joyce's positive attitude. It is beginning to give me a headache. "This was the last place April was ever seen. Sukeena stepped into the pantry. The one over there."

Joyce points to the back pantry, causing everyone's eyes to follow. Including mine. I notice Vick move and look over at him. He has pulled out his little notebook and was jotting something down. It makes me curious. What has peeked his interest enough to make him want to write it down?

"What are you writing?" I ask softly, leaning back slightly to look at him. My curiosity has gotten to me. He looks to me with a sheepish smile and then hands me his notebook.

_Solarium: man dies from bee sting.  
__Adam Rimbauer: boarding school at eight.  
__April Rimbauer: disappeared at six._

I smile at his notes and hand him his notebook back. It was a nice idea and it was making me a little more at ease for some reason.

"Sukeena swore it was for no more than thirty seconds. When she came out April was gone." Joyce continues as I look back at her and try to pick up what I have missed. "Fifty men searched the house and grounds. They found nothing. Not so much as a lock of hair or a thread from her dress."

"Great grandfather was convinced that Sukeena had something to do with it. So, he had her taken down town." Steven looks between us all, one person to the next, slowly. Joyce glares daggers at him for stealing her spotlight. "Ellen objected in the strongest possible terms, but John respectfully declined to listen. Sukeena was taken to the sort of small basement room you can probably imagine and questioned for fifty hours. No sleep, no food, no bathroom breaks or mercy."

I picture it all happening; hear the shouts and the yells; see Sukeena in a chair in some dark basement. It must have been horrible for her.

"In the end she convinced them that she didn't know anything about April's disappearance, but it cost her; three teeth, a broken nose, and a broken wrist." Steven continues. "Eventually, Ellen's maid was allowed to return home again. I mean... the only home she had left anyway."

The kitchen falls silent. Everyone takes the story in, sympathizing with Sukeena. I place a tentative hand to the side of my jaw near my chin, imagining this was the spot where she was hit. I touch it gently, finding it was slightly sore for some odd reason. I wince internally and remove my hand. I try to remember it I have hit the spot with something; a box, a book, anything. The only thing I can think of is Seamus' hard head. It is very possible that was the cause, but the more I think about it the more I doubt the idea.

"So when do we get to go upstairs? I heard that's where the really weird stuff is." I close my eyes and shake my head at Emery. I was normally an understanding and patient person, but he and Joyce were quickly getting on my last nerve.

"No time like the present." Joyce smiles and jumps off the table she had sat on. She looks from Pam all the way down to Annie. "Come on everybody."

She leads the others out of the kitchen. I linger. I saunter to the door that leads to the Health Room and peer into it. It is a depressing and eerie sight. All the plants were dead and dried. Some hung from the ceiling. Others were still in their original pots on the ground.

"Drifting from the group again, are we?" Nick's voice makes me jump slightly and throw a hand over my heart.

"Jeez!" I snap softly, my heart beating a mile a minute. I turn around and look at him where he stands by the door. "What are you? My babysitter?"

I close my eyes and turn back to the Health Room. When I open my eyes I take notice in the glass that there is no smile on his face, only calm, collected intrigue. I turn around and face him. His eyebrows knit together at a thought in his white-blonde head.

"I do feel somewhat like your babysitter." He starts and then sighs gently. He shakes his head. "I don't know why though."

"That's... _odd_." I could think of nothing else to say. It was odd. Why should he feel like my babysitter? I'm a grown woman who lives in a forest all by herself with a dog that can't hurt a fly if he wants to.

"It **is** odd. I've never felt, for a lack of a better word, _responsible_ for someone before. It's as though you, your energy, is drawing me towards you like a magnet." He tries to explain and for the most part I understand. It's not the first time I've heard this spiel.

"Tristram, the brother who can read auras, explained to me once that there are people in the world with a very particular energy that attracts others to them like a moth to a flame." I speak up, trying to recall all of what Tristram had said and how he had said it. I look up towards the ceiling in thought, eyes squinting and moving back and forth. "Maybe, because we're both psychics and this house is enhancing our powers tenfold, our auras or something are just attracting each other like magnets; trying to feed off the other's energy to sustain their own as the house eats us alive."

The air falls silent between us. I look over at him and wait for him to say something. His lips curl into a soft, warm smile.

"That's a very," Nick gives a small laugh, "_unique_ idea."

"Isn't that what the house does though? Eat people?" I ask hurriedly. I was not fond of being laughed at, even in good nature.

"Yes, that's what Joyce said, but I believe it is something else entirely." His laughing ceases, but the smile remains. "Forgive me, but I believe in the power of auras about as much as the Easter Bunny."

"Psssh." I cross my arms and look away from him jokingly. I don't put much salt in auras either.

"I don't know if it's the house that's causing this feeling of responsibility I have for you, or the others might I add," He throws in the others suddenly, "but there is something particular about **you**, Dr. Gallagher, that has captured my attention wholly and I can't quite figure out why."

"Could it be because you know so little about me and my powers?" I smile and give a small laugh.

"Most likely." He replies, but I am certain this is the reason for his curiosity. His feeling responsible for me, though, was something else entirely. "And my feeling responsible for you?"

"Maybe because I'm a damsel that's constantly getting into distress?" I offer and give a wide toothy grin. For some reason he is making everything feel alright. He is making me feel alright. I feel normal. I feel like myself when he's around. It both frightens me and settles me at the same time.

"I'm sure you can get yourself out of any situation you get yourself into." He gives me a smirk and a small, snort of a laugh.

"If that's not it then I guess we'll just have to wait for Rose Red to tell us." I comment after a moment and then nod my head slowly as an idea crept into mind. "That is, unless it eats you first and I turn up on the side of a milk carton."

"Very funny." He replies as I walk towards him and the open door of the kitchen.

"I thought it was." I retort with a grin as I walk into the hallway with Nick behind me.


	9. Chapter 9: The Tour Continues

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

It doesn't take any time to get back to the others and fall back into footstep with them as they climb the dark spiral staircase. Nick and I stay at the back. He has been asked to man the coil of rope that was tied to a pole at the bottom of the steps. As we climb, he whispers things to me now and again that make me laugh. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I have to turn my head away from the others and cover my mouth. Other times tears begin in my eyes and I have to close them to make sure they don't fall as I struggle to catch a breath.

"What are you laughing at?" Emery finally gets annoyed enough to ask, turning back to look and me. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and take a deep breath, letting out a small laugh here and there. I shake my head and look to Nick, who gives a shrug and a sly smirk.

"You're so weird." Emery snorts and shakes his head before turning back around.

"You know Emery; you could learn something from our dear friend Ana here." Nick speaks up as he lets more of the rope fall from the coil he has in his hand. "Like how to be pleasant."

"More like how to become a nut case. She lives in the woods like a hermit, acts bipolar and has psychic powers that she won't talk about." He retorts and shakes his head again. My laughing ceases as my stare locks on Emery's back. "I think I'll pass on what she has to teach me. She's a **freak**. More than that retarded girl."

My eyes fall to the floor. I'm not angry with him. I actually agree. He's right. I am a freak. Who would choose to live a life of seclusion and then come out of it to go romping about haunted houses after everything they have done to her in the past? I really am bipolar.

Nick looks over at me to see my response. He notices my melancholy expression and leans close to my ear. His breath is warm against my flesh and tickles me.

"Don't listen to him for even a moment. He has no idea why you live the way you do. He doesn't know what happened." He then turns his gaze on Emery, anger swelling within his eyes while I am left in confusion. "And anyways, we're all _**freaks **_here; some more so than others. Right Em? Or would your mummy disagree with that?"

He says this loud enough for Emery's ears, but all he does is shake his head for a third time and, no doubt, makes a face we cannot see. Nick looks back at me, at my cynically perplexed expression.

"What?" He asks slowly.

"_Do you know what happened? Why I live the way I do?"_ I ask in my head, knowing for a fact that he could hear me. He says nothing. He only looks between my eyes as if trying to search for something. I get suspicious. He's a telepath looking for something. I instantly believe that he is trying to read my mind. "Don't you go moseying around my memories. They're private."

"I wasn't, Luciana. I promised you that I wouldn't. Don't you trust me?" His answer is so sudden and laced with a tinge of hurt that I have no choice but to believe him. I'm about to say something, to apologize for accusing him, but I get a chill that runs down the length of my spine. I look behind me as though expecting someone to be there with an ice cube in hand, but there's nothing.

"What is it?" Nick asks gently and looks with me. I say nothing, mainly because I don't hear him. I was listening to something else entirely. Nick watches as I look off to the floor in a daze and I tilt my head slightly to the left, right ear towards the ceiling. I was listening intently to the small, feminine voice on the air.

_I'm a little teapot; short and stout.  
__Here is my handle.  
__Here is my spout.  
__When I get all steamed up hear me shout.  
__Tip me over and-_

"Ana?" Nick breaks me from my trance by taking my hand in his. He looks down and rubs his thumb over the back of mine. "You're absolutely freezing."

"Poor circulation." I reply and jerk my hand from his. I pull my sleeves down and over my hands. They were freezing, but it wasn't from poor blood circulation. It was the house; Rose Red. It was the cold grasp of death.

"Here we are!" Joyce's voice captures both of our attention, but not for long. Nick's eyes trail back to me, worry settling into the creases of his face.

"_What were you listening to?"_ He asks as Joyce continues talking. I was having trouble paying attention to both. _"Ana? Did you hear me?"_

"_Yeah, I did... it's nothing."_ I reply and look up at the others who were beginning to walk through a doorway.

"It's **not** nothing, Ana." Nick replies, realizing the trouble I was having with trying to listen to Joyce's voice with my ears and his voice with my mind. "When something leaves you like a block of ice and unwilling to talk about it, it's not nothing."

"Ana! Nick! Are you coming?" Joyce calls out to us. We realize we're the only ones on the staircase. I look to Nick once more and then slip my hand from his, walking up the last few steps to where the others disappeared through a door. I follow behind them with Nick right behind me. I can feel his eyes digging into my back.

I feel almost rotten for not telling someone, him, about the psychic phenomenon that was happening with me. Or about myself in general. Then again he has yet to tell me about himself either. Then I remember my past experiences and feel like I was doing a service by keeping my mouth firmly shut.

"This is the perspective hallway." Joyce smiles to herself as she looks to the end of the hall. Nick walks passed me and then the others, stretching the rope out along the floor. "It was Ellen's first major edition and no architect designed it either."

"She made it up herself?" Cathy asks with astonishment and gives a slight laugh. "Way to go Ellen."

"But she didn't." Joyce corrects Cathy, staring into the distance of the long hallway of red and brown.

"Then who did, Dr. Reardon?" Rachel asks as she examines the hallway.

"It was Sukeena." Joyce finally replies after coming back from her thoughts and begins walking slowly down the hall once more.

"Her maid?" Emery asks incredulously, nose stuffed and huffing.

"No, she was her **companion**." Joyce snaps at Emery, keeping her face turned forward. Pam suddenly walks passed us all with a grin on her face.

"It's so wild. Like something in a fun house." Pam laughs with sparkles in her eyes. She reminds me of a child in a candy store. She goes to try one of the doors, but it doesn't open. As we walk a little further, the ceiling begins to decline, falling lower. It makes me feel like a giant. Pam places a hand on her stomach as she walks to another door. "It's making my stomach turn."

She laughs again and backs away from the door slightly. The groups stops and looks at the door while I hang behind. I watch them all carefully. As curious as they were about me, I was just as curious about them. I study each of their walking styles; how far apart each step is; whether they step heel-toe or toe-heel; how they hold themselves.

"I guess they're pieces built in perspective." Pam gives up on the door and looks around at us, catching my gaze. I give a small smile and look away.

"Well, camouflaging the real doors was great grams idea. She didn't want to spoil the illusion." Steven moves towards the door and places a hand on it, pushing it lightly. He looks into the room for a moment and then calls out. "Bollinger! Hey Bollinger are you in there?"

I close my eyes and shake my head. Why on earth...

"What is it now?" I open my eyes and look at Nick, who stands beside me with the coil of rope in hand.

"Of all the things to say, why ask if Bollinger is in the room? Why would that even come to his mind?" I question rhetorically and look back at Steven. "There are hundreds of rooms in this house and Steve thinks, 'hmmm, maybe the reporter is in this one?'. Seriously?"

Nick gives a small laugh, wraps his free arm around my shoulders, jostles me playfully, and then looks back at Steven along with me. What happens next catches us all off guard.

A strong wind emits from somewhere in the room as well as some sort of yell. I squint my eyes, feeling the air hit them, drying them out and hurting them. I soon close them and turn my head towards Nick, back to the wind. I feel his arms wrap around my shoulders and middle pulling me into him to shield my face from the raging phantom gusts of wind.

"Annie no!" The yell makes me pull my head from the safety of Nick's shirt and look towards Rachel. Her eyes glue to her little sister that is walking away towards the room. I don't know why she is walking towards the danger instead of away. Or maybe I do... I listen closer to the wind. There are voices; wailing screams. I scream as my ears begin to ring. I throw my hands over my ears and silence my screams of pain.

"What? What is it?" Nick tightens his hold on me. His voice was full of alarm, but I can't say anything. I can only grit my teeth, keeping my eyes closed tightly and try to force the screams away. Nick closes his eyes and lays his head against mine.

"What's going on!" Joyce calls out, her eyes locked on Nick and me.

"I don't know!" He calls back as tears rush to my eyes. The ringing continues to mingle with the screams of Rose Red's victims. It feels as though red hot pokers were being shoved into my ears.

"_Make them stop!"_ I scream inside my head and let out a small cry. _"It hurts!"_

Nick says nothing and for a moment I think that he didn't hear me. Then I feel him turn us around so his back was to the open door. I guess he thought I was talking about the gusts of raging wind.

"No! Stop!" Annie begins to scream at the phantom gust. It only seems to grow stronger with her ferocity. I pull my face from Nick's shirt once more and look at her from over his shoulder. I could hear her above everything else. "You be quiet!"

I agree with her. It was time for it to stop. In a split second, I raise my right hand sharply; palm out, fingers stretched and tense. The door slams shut with an echo through the hall. Everyone falls silent. My heart is beating fast within my chest as my cheeks burn and ears rings mercilessly. In another moment the ringing is gone, but my heart still beats wildly and the red on my face grows darker.

I don't dare look up at Nick, whose arms still reside around me protectively. I know that at least he knows about my desperate action; knows some of the power I keep hidden. I turn my head back to his shirt and lay my cheek against it, staring out down the hallway.

"You wanted this place to wake up, Joyce. I'd say you've been successful in that regard." Nick speaks up with his eyes attached to the good doctor. His voice has a rather unhappy tinge to it. I refuse to look at the door that is now firmly shut by my power and will. I refuse to look at anything except the empty hall before us. I feel Nick tense. His arms pull me in tighter and his chest firms, muscles tense. I wrap my arms around his middle and grip the back of his shirt.

"_You're alright."_ He comforts me and rubs a hand up and down my back. He believes I'm in shock. Little does he know that this was nothing new. I have seen, experienced, much worse. I close my eyes and try to forget it all.

"_I feel like a frightened child."_ I explain to him, though I do nothing to rectify this feeling. I only tighten my hold on him and hide my face in his shirt.

"_We all do." _Nick's reply did nothing to ease my mind.

"Is she okay?" Pam pipes up and looks in my direction. She takes a shaky step closer and stands beside up. I open my eyes and look at her, but don't move. I like my spot. I feel safe in Nick's arms.

"She's just a little shaken." Nick replies for me and rubs his hand up and down my back gently again. "We all are."

Pam nods her head and crosses her arms over her chest.

"In the mid 60's, a team of scientists, one of them a geologist, spent time investigating Rose Red and heard the house scream several times." Joyce begins her tour again, acting as though the event hasn't phased her. "They reported a couple. Actually, although on tape, they don't sound very impressive."

"What did they conclude?" Nick asks as I pull back from him. He looks down at me a moment and then looks to Joyce. Joyce smiles at him, looking between him and I.

"That they were hearing the sound of underground water. Perhaps it was amplified by the old water drain pipes that run underneath all of Seattle." She explains and looks around at us all. I steal a glance at Annie. She was back to playing peacefully with her doll's hair once more. Had she heard the screams too? Had they caused her enough pain to wish to silence them like she had? Did she know I was the one who shut the door?

Annie looks away from her doll and at me. Her smile is gone and in its place was a pensive, yet blank, look. Yes, she did know it was me.

"Underground water?" Vick asks skeptically about this conclusion.

"People faced with these sorts of phenomena tend to protect their belief system very ferociously." Joyce walks a little further down the hall. Her words have caught my attention. The way she spoke tells me she's been at the mercy of several non-believers who had protected their beliefs with cruel words and actions. "This hallway is the last place Ellen Rimbauer was ever seen, you know. They moved in on January 15th, 1909. Ellen marked the occasion each January 15th by wearing the same white dress she wore on the day they arrived. For many of those years Ellen threw a party January 15th and anybody who was anybody showed up; politicians, hoodlums, sports players, celebrities. When the actress disappeared the parties stopped."

Joyce looks to the floor remembering about the actress. Cathy waits on Joyce impatiently.

"Well, finish telling us about old Mrs. Rimbauer." She asks and then looks between us all as though she was embarrassed.

"She disappeared on January 15th 1950. She was seventy. A maid saw her and wished her good evening and she swept by as if she didn't even hear her." Joyce pauses or a minute to take a breath and then continues. "That was the last anyone ever saw of her."

We all look at each other quietly. Joyce was very good at spinning tales. Especially scary tales. We all look back Joyce, hearing her voice once again.

"Come on. Lots more to see." She begins walking towards a door in the hall. She opens it and walks through with everyone following. I stay by Nick as he watches Emery tie his rope off to a lamp on the wall before we walk off with everyone else. I can't help but feel as though the rope will do no good.

"I feel like Grethel wandering through the Dark Forest." I announce softly as I continue to follow the others beside Nick.

"How so?" He asks and only looks at me for a brief moment.

"With the rope and all." I reply and look up at him. "If-"

I stop and look around us. I shouldn't say this aloud. Nick looks to me at my silence and I tap a finger to my head.

"_If the house wants us, then simply tying a coil of rope about is as useful as leaving a trail of bread crumbs."_ I continue my words in my head, knowing he is listening. _"The house can get passed rope. Joyce is simply leading them blindly through an endless abyss. We should tell them."_

"_Am I to understand that I'm Hansel then?"_ He asks, ignoring my other statements. I can see the smirk slithering across his lips as he looks ahead at the others.

"_I'm being serious, Nick."_

"_I know you are, but what other options do we have? There is nothing else we can do to keep us on the right path."_

"_And Joyce?"_ I look up at him again. He sighs heavily and looks down at me.

"The show will continue." He replies sarcastically and then looks back at Joyce. _"For as long as she keeps her composure."_

I nod my head and bite my tongue to keep myself from saying anything more.

"This is the gymnasium." Joyce announces and places a hand on the doorknob. "You'll notice that although the exercise equipment is out of date-"

I find myself curious as to why Joyce has stopped mid sentence and look up to see the same expression on Nick's face. As I walk further I can see we have stumbled into a library with a mirror floor. I grimace and close my eyes. My face twists; a sharp pain runs through my head. It was happening again. I was reliving my precognitive-telepathic dream.

The room is dark. A fire sits lonely at the back of the room contained in a hearth. Its flames dance along the silvery floor of the mirror that spreads from wall to wall. It makes my stomach queasy; that mirror floor. I walk inside and the door creeps shut. The air grows cold despite the fire. I look behind me and see something on the mirror floor glowing. It lifts up into the air and hovers over the floor a moment before transfiguring into the shape of a young girl. She has a withered arm and carries a doll in the other that was normal. She sings a haunting tune that echoes throughout the room. The walls shake and the ground quakes as she moves closer to me. I hear screams. I hear doors slamming shut and whispers that brush passed my ears. The fire in the hearth grows hotter. I take a step back and then turn around to face it. I hear screams resonating from the flames. Suddenly, it flashes and a great, terrible spirit flies from the flames towards me. I fall backwards, close my eyes and wait as the flames pass over me. All goes quiet...


	10. Chapter 10: The End of the Tour

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

I shake my head to try and free myself of the dream.

"Now what are you doing?" I look to Nick, who had spoken. He stares at me with a small smile. This poor man... he hardly knows me and yet he is there every time something goes wrong, asking if I am alright.

"Just," I lick my lips and try to think of something to say. I look around the room again, "just taking in the sight of the room."

I take another deep breath and feel my stomach turn. He nods his head as Vick walks before us.

"This room does demands a particular form of exercise." Vick smiles at me, his eyes bigger than life behind his glasses. I nod my head and look across the mirror floor to the small sitting area before the fireplace.

"Yeah. A very particular exercise." I reply softly and click my tongue.

"Uh, how uh-" Joyce begins as she looks at where she has led us. Steve looks around the room as well.

"It's the mirror library." Steve enlightens us as he looks back at Joyce. "It's not in the plans, but I remember seeing it as a little boy and I was afraid to go in because I thought I'd fall."

"You and me both Steve!" I chime in and huddle closer to Nick earning a laugh from him.

"They're not in the plans? How can they not be in the plans?" Emery asks and looks forward at Steve. Steve shakes his head.

"There's a camera!" Cathy calls as she walks towards the camera lying on the floor. She picks it up, looks onto the back and gasps. She hurries back over to the group and hands the camera to me. Why? I don't know, but I pass it off to Nick instantly. He reads the back where a white label sat with a name inked on it; Kevin Bollinger.

"Not good. Not good at all." Nick speaks up as he looks back at Cathy, whose mouth hangs open. "The property of Kevin Bollinger."

"Mister Bollinger? Mister Bollinger, are you here?" Pam calls out sporadically as she looks every which way in the library. I breathe out slowly and notice that I can see my breath.

"Oh no." I whisper to myself as a chill runs down my spine. I can feel Nick's questioning eyes on me, but I don't look at him. My eyes are glued to the fireplace. The lights suddenly shut off causing me to look around the room.

"What's going on?" Cathy asks with worry as she looks about the darkened room.

"I told you this might happen. The lights will come back on. In the meantime, use your flashlights." Joyce says as she pulls out her flashlight and turns it on. I didn't bother to bring my flashlight. I had left it on the table in the entrance hall.

"Oh, my... Look!" Cathy yells and points to where she was looking. There was a part on the mirror floor that had begun to glow bluish-white light. Slowly, some sort of smoke began to rise up, eerily illuminating the room.

"Come on Steve. Roll tape, roll tape." Joyce whispers in a rush as her eyes remain glued to the apparition that was forming in front of us.

"We need to leave." I find my voice. "She's dangerous."

"She?" Nick's gaze snaps to me. I swallow hard and look up at him with a timid, sorrowful expression.

"It's A-" I can't finish my sentence because the voice that had been singing earlier returns. This time, though, it isn't signing or humming.

"_Annie..." _The ghost calls to the young girl.

"Annie, no." Rachel yells at her sister, who has begun walking towards the glowing ball of light. I feel anger rise up within me as I see Joyce egg Annie on as she passes her. This is what I was afraid of. I look to Nick quickly and see he is as every bit enamored with the sight as the others are. I nudge him in the side and don't bother to hide my disgust in his behavior as he looks down at me.

"Annie, don't touch it." Nick, knowing what my nudge meant, says sternly staring at the girl that continues to walk forward.

"Annie, stop!" I yell and try to take a step forward to grab her as she passes me. Joyce catches my arm and pulls me back. I look to her tight hold on my arm and then to her. My eyes narrow. "Let go, Joyce."

"Just give her a moment." She replies, voice sounding far away. Annie keeps moving towards the glowing bluish-white light.

"Annie no!" Rachel yells out to Annie again, louder and more meaningful. Annie doesn't listen and keeps walking, free arm outstretched toward the ghost.

_"Annie, come..." _The ghost calls out again, enticing the girl.

"Stop her! Somebody's got to stop her!" Rachel calls out as she watches her sister walk closer to the light. Her eyes move from one person to the next until she catches my gaze. She's struggling against Nick's hold. "You have to stop her!"

I feel bravery well up within me. Not much, but just enough to act on it. I look over at Cathy and see that she has the camera in her hands.

"Cathy." I call softly. She was an automatic-writer. She can hear the smallest of sounds. She blinks several times as she comes out of her trance and looks over at me. I mouth, 'when I say so, flash the camera' at her. She nods and looks back at the ghost. Annie is within five feet of the ghost when Rachel steps out from the group. Nick catches her by the arm, trying to pull her back.

I look down at Joyce's hold on my arm. I take my right hand and place it over hers. Heat surges and suddenly she gives a shout, releasing her hold on me. I bolt towards Annie without a second thought.

"Luciana!" Nick calls with fervor as he and the others watch me sprint to Annie. I round in front of her and separate her from the ghost. I hug her tightly to keep her from moving and look back at Cathy.

"Cathy! Now! Use it now!" I yell to her as she raises the camera up. She presses the button down and the camera flashes over and over and over again. The shrill scream of the girl sounds the room and rattles the floor. I scream as my head tilts back like something has grabbed hold of my ponytail. I can feel something claw at my back, dragging across my flesh beneath my clothes. The ghost disperses and the lights to the house snap back on.

Annie pulls away from me, taking a step backwards. I let her go. I have no energy or will to keep her in my arms. I look up though and see she is staring behind me.

"Annie?" I ask trying to get her to look at me. She has a small pout on her face as she stares at where the ghost had been. I try to sit up straight, but the skin on my back stretches and pain sears, making me grimace. "Annie? Are you alright?"

Rachel walks up and lightly grabs Annie's arm. She looks to see if she was okay and then looks at me.

"Thank you." Her voice is soft and breathy with relief. I nod my head as I feel a sharp sensation, like after you cut yourself by glass, on my back as I stand up. I place my left hand on my shoulder trying to feel a cut or a scratch and stop when I hit a sore spot. I watch as Nick fiddles with putting his flashlight back in his pocket. He looks to Cathy.

"How did you know to do that?" He asks, looking at her surprised. Cathy looks down at the camera and keeps quiet for a moment.

"Ana told me." She nods her head towards me, causing Nick to look my way. My eyes are closed and a pained expression lingers on my face. I touch the place on my shoulder and back again, flinching. Cathy passes the camera to Nick saying, "Here, take it. I-I don't want it."

"Here, give it to me." Pam reaches out and takes the camera. The group watches Pam as she holds the camera and goes into a trance. "Try and get some pictures... Pictures of them being physic..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emery asks as he stares at Pam. Pam looks between the members of the group smiling and shaking her head.

"I don't know. I think it's someone talking to Bollinger." Pam turns her eyes towards Joyce, who nods her head knowingly.

"I bet that I know who." Joyce scoffs and shakes her head.

"Is Bollinger alive? Can you tell?" Steve asks and looks to Pam. She falls quiet as she stares at the camera.

"He was when he dropped this camera and beyond that I... I don't know." Pam answers looking worriedly back at Steve.

"I think we ought to get out of here, Joyce. Really." Steve looks over at Joyce.

"Okay, okay. So, let's head back down stairs. Break time." She claps her hands together and smiles. I look around the library once the others begin leaving. My eyes trail the wall until they rest of the hearth. I stare at it accusingly. The one thing I hadn't seen in the dark was the creature from the flames, but I know that it had been there' claws and all.

"Ana? Are you coming?" I look behind me and see Vick by the door. I nod my head and head towards him. He steps away from the door to allow me to pass. "You saw it before it happened, didn't you?"

His question surprises me and halts my step. I turn and look at him, staring for a long moment.

"How did-"

He smiles knowingly and taps a finger to his head. It takes only a moment for his gesture to register. I give a small laugh and smile genuinely back at him. He's precognitive.

"You had a vision of me remembering my precognitive-telepathic dream of what was going to happen." I work out what he knows already. He nods his head and I can't help but to give another laugh. "Truly amazing."

Vick gives a small laugh and then it ceases. He stares at me blankly as his smile falters.

"Wait! It's not the same." Vick rushes into the hall and pushes passed everyone to get to the front of the group. "The hallway... it's not the same."

I walk into the hall and look around. He's right. It's not the perspective hallway. It's something else. Somehow the hallway had changed.

"No, no, no. Nonsense." Joyce tries to convince us that she was right and that this was the way we had come. I doubt that anyone believes her words though.

"No, he's right. We should be going back the way we came, but we're not." Pam retorts as she looks around like the rest of us. We all begin moving down the hallway, trying to figure out how this has happened. Joyce grabs Steve's arm and stops his walk.

"Steve, what's going on?" her voice is soft and full of confusion.

"What is that?" I ask suddenly and look around in desperation for the source of the noise. The others look back at me as my head jerks from left to right, up and down. "Is that...? Is that hammering?"

I look towards Joyce and Steven in question. Steven nods his head and looks around the hall.

"The building started again." He says as he looks at the walls, hearing hammerings coming from somewhere in the house. "You wanted to wake the place up, Joyce. I think you got what you wanted."

"But who's building? And what?" Nick asks as he walks up to them. I stay at the back of the group by Annie and Rachel. I look down at Annie and then give a comforting smile to Rachel.

"Is she alright?" I ask, knowing that asking Annie was useless. Rachel nods her head and looks down at her sister.

"I don't know." Steve's reply makes me look towards him. He is still looking for the source of the noises. Nick stares at him intently. He was reading Steve's mind.

"You're lying, Steve." Steve looks back at Nick.

"No, I'm not lying." Steve throws back, staring at Nick.

"Is it too hard to remember... or too frightening to remember?" Nick inquires more forcefully, cornering Steve.

"It's gone!" I call up, trying to stop what I was seeing. Something had a hold of Nick. I noticed it first outside Rose Red when he was questioning me.

"It's stopped." Rachel pipes up, looking at us all. I walk up next to Nick and look between him and Steve. I place a hand on Nick's arm, pulling him away from Steve's mind.

"Then I suggest we go down stairs before it starts again." Nick keeps his eyes locked with Steve's.

"_Just because you can read minds, doesn't mean you should."_ I pipe up in my mind and stare up at Nick. He looks down at me, eyes softening.

Joyce walks between Nick and Steve, beginning down the hallway again. I hold Nick back and allow the others to follow first.

"Now you're _my _responsibility." I announce softly, half joking. He gives a good natured snort of a laugh and then leads us after the others. As we round the corner several members of the group gasp at the sight. The rope that was supposed to lead us back down stairs was stuck through the middle of a wall. I lick my lips and look up at Nick accusingly.

"Oh no. What are we going to do now Hansel?" I whisper sarcastically. Nick gives another snort of a laugh as I shake my head and walk to the wall to examine the situation. I place my hands on it and drag them over the wallpaper, the moldings as Nick comes up beside me. He places his own hands against the wall.

"Nick, that's not going to work." I explain as I feel his mind pushing, his powers pushing, against the wall, but it doesn't budge.

"So what now then Grethel?" He asks softly and looks to me. I let my hands fall and sigh, shrugging.

"I don't know... Summon the witch and pray that she won't throw us in an oven?" I retort and watch as Nick closes his eyes.

"We need a powerful telekinetic to move the wall." He stands up straight and looks at me. I know the look on his face, but I was done using my powers for now. My back hurts and so does my head. Enough.

"Hey Annie?" I start as I hold Nick's gaze. He gives a small smirk. "We need your help, sweetheart."

I look over at Annie and smile tenderly. Joyce pulls Annie away from her sister and leads her over to where Nick and I stand. I place a hand on her back and rub encouragingly as Nick kneels beside her. He wraps his arm around her back and stares at the road block before us. I place Annie's hands against the wall as Nick tells her to push from her mind.

The wall rumbles slightly and then stops. Annie places her other hand on the wall and pushes like the first time. The wall rumbles once more and then stops again.

"Nick." Joyce calls trying to get his attention. I look back at her and just stare. She was a nuisance.

"Not now Joyce." He calls back, keeping his eyes on the wall. I look down at Annie and then sighing I place my hands on the wall as well. I look over at Annie and smile.

"Ready Annie?" I ask before looking back at the wall. "One... two... three!"

The wall rumbles again, but doesn't stop. Suddenly, the whole thing flies back with such a force, slightly throwing Annie and me backwards.

"Annie!" Rachel yells as the lights go off. The lights blink back on after a minute or so. I look down at Annie and Nick. Nick brushes her chin with a finger and sighs happily. Annie gives a light little laugh as she looks down the hallway.

"That wasn't funny." Rachel complains as she stares at her sister.

"Okay, uh, I know another way down from here and there might be something worth seeing on the way." Joyce announces and pulls everyone out of their thoughts. She walks forward, beginning to lead us when Nick speaks up.

"Are you sure you know the way?" He asks standing up straight with a stern look. At that moment he reminds me of a lion for some reason. The way he was holding himself, his look, just something reminds me of a lion; king of the jungle.

"Yes!" Joyce snaps and then scoffs as she continues to walk on. I look over at Steve with an annoyed expression plastered on my face.

"You have better get control of her, Steven... and quick before she loses herself." I speak somewhat cryptically and watch him as he passes me. The others follow suit slowly. Nick stand on the opposite side of the hall, staring at me. There was something familiar in his eyes; pride.

"What?" I ask slowly as we come together in the middle of the hall and follow the others.

"You're finally coming out of that shell of yours." He smiles and turns his gaze towards the backs of the others. "Are a marvelous creature indeed."

"Shut up." I groan, a laugh mingling with my voice. We walk for a while and then head into a room that was unlike the other strange ones we had already seen. The ceiling was the floor and the floor was the ceiling. Everything was upside down; desks, chairs, even lights.

"Oh my God..." Pam whispers as she gazes over the entire room.

"Oh my God is right." Vick reiterates, just as amazed as Pam. I walk close to Nick, scanning over the room and feeling the spots on my back and shoulder that were in pain once more. They only ache now; no burning or searing.

"More camouflaged doors, Stevie?" Nick asks and turns to look at Steve. Steve nods his head slowly, taking in the room like the rest of us.

"Great gram was never above using a good trick twice." He smiles slightly, grimly. "This was her little joke on her husband's business life."

"Did he get it?" I look over at Rachel, who had spoken, and wonder the same thing.

"I doubt it. I don't even really get it." Steve answers moving around the room. He spots something over to the left and walks closer to the wall. "Here's the real door. Just uh, just press right there."

He points to a spot on the wall and Vick anxiously walks over and pushes on the wall, revealing a room. I bend left and right, trying to look passed Vick. I feel someone place a hand on my lower back and jump, startled.

"Damn it...!" I spin around and smack Nick on the arm. "You scared the life out of me."

"Sorry. My mistake." He gives a small laugh, smirk bright on his lips.

"This house has everything, but chow." I look over at Emery, who was complaining yet again, to Joyce, and then roll my eyes. We soon take our leave from the room and make our way back down stairs. Everyone moves into the Billiards room, eating their, well I would call it dinner since the sun was nearly finished setting, but Joyce insists that it's lunch, peacefully. I sit down in front of the table that sat between a chair and the couch.

"Better Emery?" Joyce asks as she turns to look at him sitting in a wooden chair eating his food.

"Then nothing, I guess... too much mayo in the crab meat." He answers, looking down at his food. I shake my head and pop a grape into my mouth. A true pessimist to the end.

"What do you want big boy?" Nick asks, causing us all to look towards him. "Bare breasted nymphs to kneel at your feet and offer you delicacies from silver platters?"

Nick smiles to himself as I laugh softly, listening to the two bicker.

"You stop it right now. Stop harassing me." Emery snaps and points a finger at Nick. Nick smirks back at Emery and I laugh louder as I look down at my food.

"There's a difference between joking and harassing. Didn't you ever learn that?" Steve questions as he walks back to his seat with more food.

"I learned plenty in high school; believe me, from guys like him... and you." Emery scoffs and looks over at me. I was laughing softly to myself. Not really even at the conversation they were having anymore. Emery stares at me for a moment and then scoffs again. "And girls like you."

I lift my head from the arm of Nick's chair and look at Emery with an eyebrow arched.

"Oh really?" I ask sardonically and set my plate on the ground beside me. "And how were these girls anything like me, Emery?"

"The preppy cheerleader girls, who would make fun of guys like me just because they could. The stuck up rich bitches with low self-esteem that end up pregnant before their sixteenth birthday." Emery scoffs again and takes a bite of his food.

"Stuck up. Rich bitch. Wow, there is a lot of anger there Emery." I begin to feel sorry for him. "Have I really given you the impression that I was like that in high school?"

"No you haven't, but we do hardly know anything about you. So, what were you like in high school?" I look up at Nick and shrug.

"I wasn't popular. That's for sure. I was second chair in orchestra. I played on the junior varsity soccer team and winter color guard. I worked for the county library on their bookmobile. Got straight A's and was a bit of a teacher's pet, I'm afraid to admit." I blink several times, remembering high school and smile. Those were good times.

"Ah, so you were the innocent school girl, but also the naughty librarian." Nick smirks down at me and pops a grape into his mouth. I give a small 'psssh' and then laugh.

"Come on, come on. Give it a rest." Joyce speaks up finally and walks behind the furniture. "Emery, I might be able to provide you with something you like better in a little while."

Emery rolls his eyes while chewing with his mouth open. Suddenly, Cathy turns around to face Joyce who was behind her.

"Tell us about the actress Joyce. I've always been a sucker for celebrities." She giggles and waits patiently for Joyce to spin a tale. I, on the other hand, can care less about an actress. I look up at Nick.

"What did you do in high school?" I ask softly enough so that Joyce wouldn't snap at me to be quiet. "Football? Wait... did you go to school in the states?"

"No. I went to school in Northampton, England where I was born." He replies and places his plate on the side table I was leaning against. "I moved here in '91."

"Why?" I ask, my tone sounds oddly unpatriotic. "Not that I don't like the states."

"Yes, because that's what I gathered from your tone." He gives a small laugh. "It was just time for a change."

I could relate. So could my family.

"I was born in New York. My family moved to Washington some years ago because we needed a change." I explain softly and then look down at my feet. My toes are painted hot pink in anticipation for the upcoming summer.

"Where in New York?"

"Syracuse. It's a crap hole in the city, but the suburbs aren't bad." I look back at him again.

"Now, Annie, if you've finished eating." Joyce's words catch Nick and my attention. She moves towards Annie, who sits on the couch with her sister and Cathy. She kneels down in front of her. "I have something to show you. It's nice. You'll like it. I promise."

"_Yeah, because that sounds sane."_ I look back at Nick, eyebrow cocked. Joyce takes Annie's plate of food and passes it to Cathy. Then she holds out her hand for Annie to take. When Annie doesn't take her hand she nods to Rachel. We all watch, wondering what Joyce was planning.

"It's okay." Rachel encourages Annie to take Joyce's hand. When Annie has, Joyce helps her stand and walk around the couch. We all stand up as well. Joyce leads Annie to a set of small stairs and ushers up them.

"Go on Annie. Go and see what you find." Joyce encourages.

"It's not dangerous is it?" Rachel asks Joyce, looking up the stairs herself. It was a very good question.

"No, no. Not a bit. Go on Annie." Joyce gives Annie a smile and Annie begins climbing the stairs to the landing.

"Annie..." I hear Nick call from beside me and Annie and I both look to him. He put his hands up like there was an invisible wall in front of him and moves his hands as if he were looking for a way out, sort of like a mime. He then smiles and gives her a thumbs up. Annie gives him a look that makes me laugh. It said 'okay crazy man'. Priceless. She keeps moving and I keep my eyes on Nick. He looks down at me for a moment.

"What?" He asked smiling, knowing what I was about to say.

"That's cheating, you know that right?" I smile back and laugh slightly while shaking my head.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He tries to hide a grin that was quickly forming on his face and I scoff, jokingly.

"What in the world is it?" Cathy speaks up, looking over to Joyce. I look to Annie and see that she has found a secret compartment in the wall.

"Whatever it is she likes it." Rachel moved up next to Joyce on the stairs and watches her sister look through the small panel that leads into another room. I look behind us towards the windows behind the pool table. The sun was just about set. The tiniest bit of raging orange still on the horizon.

"...and he stretched forth his hands towards the heavens, and there was darkness throughout the land..." I quote as the light disappears beneath the gates and woods around the house and darkness engulfs us.


	11. Chapter 11: If Sinners Entice Thee

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

It was now almost eight and completely dark outside. Everyone sits around in the parlor room, not knowing exactly what we should be doing. I sit on the couch and pull my ponytail out, rustling the waves of gold with one hand. They fall over my shoulders. I then pick up my book and rest it on my lap. It's the same one I had been skimming through on my deck.

_Midway upon the journey of my life  
__I found myself within a forest dark,  
__For the straightforward pathway had been lost._

_Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say  
__What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,  
__Which in the very thought renews the fear._

_So bitter is it, death is little more;  
__But of the good to treat, which there I found,  
__Speak will I of the other things I saw there._

"What are you reading?" I look up from my page and around in search of who had spoken. Pam gives a small wave and I smile at her. "That's book is huge."

"Oh, uh yeah. I'm a reader." I laugh and look over the book. It was huge. Nearly a thousand pages within it. I hold the cover to her.

"Classic Works to Read in Your Lifetime." She reads and gives a small nod. "I was never much a reader. Especially not when it came to the classics. What are you reading now?"

"Dante's Inferno." I reply and then go back to reading.

_Day was departing, and the embrowned air  
__Released the animals that are on earth  
__From their fatigues; and I the only one_

_Made myself ready to sustain the war,  
__Both of the way and likewise of the woe,  
__Which memory that errs not shall retrace._

"_Through me the way is to the city dolent;  
__Through me the way is to eternal dole;  
__Through me the way among the people lost._

_Justice incited my sublime Creator;  
__Created me divine Omnipotence,_

_The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.  
__Before me there were no created things,  
__Only eterne, and I eternal last.  
__All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"_

I jump at the sound of an organ. I close my book and look over the back of the couch. Emery sat on the wooden bench, hands firmly on the keys of the grand old instrument.

"No corporal presence in over six centuries. No psychic pulse." I look over at Nick and watch as he drags his hand gently over a suit of knight's armor. Emery's playing improves, but its overtone is eerie. I try and begin reading once more. "Emery?"

Nope. I close my book and set it down in my lap with a heated huff.

"Are you thinking of dressing for dinner?" Nick asks and the music cuts off. I hear the bench creak as Emery turns around to look at Nick.

"You tell me." He stands from his seat. "Read my mind."

I give a laugh and look over at Nick. Vick gets up off the couch and rushes over to where Cathy sat on the other. He hold in his hands a bible and points to a certain part.

"Cathy, you were right; Revelation twelve." Cathy looks at the section and smiles, nodding her head. Pam watches as everyone seems to have something to do and leans back in her chair. Emery walks over to where Rachel stands by an old record player. She is looking through the albums.

"Annie! Glenn Miller!" Rachel calls and holds up a certain record. Annie runs from her spot by the fire and to the record player, turning the album over in her hands.

"That doesn't work. I tried it while I was setting up." Joyce calls after Annie, staring at the girl's back. "Sorry Annie."

Suddenly, the door bell rings, catching us all off guard. I stand up from the couch and walk to where Nick was. I watch Joyce as she smiles at us all and puts her things she was carrying on the table.

"Joyce?" Vick asks carefully as he and Cathy stand up from the loveseat. We all stare at Joyce who only continues to smile.

"It's alright." She replies as she walks around the table and out into the entrance hall where the front door was. The others follow behind her, curious as to whom the visitor was. I hang back and walk up to Annie, who was trying to get the old record player to work. The door bell rings again.

"I bet you can get this old hunk a junk to work." I pipe up softly and smile at her, tapping the record player gently. "Can't ya?"

Annie looks to me and then at the record player. She pulls the album from its cover and places it, putting the needle right where it needs to be. The record slowly begins to spin and then picks up speed, music floating into the air. It was a rather peppery tune. She looks to me and then smiles, making me smile back.

We walk into the entrance hall and see the others by the door. Emery holds three pizza boxes in his arms with soda on top. The others look to Annie and me in surprise of the music. I see Nick move from his spot and take Rachel in his arms, twirling her around. Then I see Vick walk up to Pam and ask her to dance. Steve walks towards Annie and me, bobbing his head and smiling while snapping his fingers. I laugh and step out of the way for him to take Annie's hand in a dance.

I watch the others dancing and feel, for the first time since we have gotten here, alright. I walk to Emery and pull the sodas from on top of the pizza boxes. Then I follow him back into the parlor room. I place the sodas on the coffee table and move to stand in front of the fire. I don't budge when the front door shuts or when I hear the others laughing.

"This is terrific!" My eyes snap from the fire to Nick who had spoken. He was looking down at Rachel smiling and laughing, while they continue to dance. I smile at them and turn back to the fire.

"Yeah... just terrific." I sigh, feeling slightly jealous that Nick was dancing with Rachel. I move from the fire and sit back on the couch. I pick up my book and open it to where I had left off. The music continues to play, but I lose myself in the pages filled to the brim with words.

* * *

**-NICK-**

"Isn't there someone else you'd rather be dancing with?" Rachel looks up at me as we move across the marble floor.

"No, why?" I shake my head. Her words have confused me. Rachel nods over to where Luciana sits on the sofa by the fire. In her hands was her book, a heavy thing filled with the words of old philosophers and literary masters alike. I look back at Rachel. "I don't understand."

But I do and Rachel knows this as well. She gives me a look, tilting her head to one side.

"Oh I think you do." Rachel turns her attention back to the bleach blonde she was still dancing with. "I think you like her more than you're letting on."

I smile and continue to twirling her around with the others. She had guessed it. My little secret. I was in fact attracted to the golden haired beauty sitting on the sofa. At first it had only been her looks. Then when she had appeared at the bar like a vision I had found myself becoming curious as to whom she truly was. Then today had only propelled that attraction further passed her naturally mysterious nature.

"It's the strangest thing. I've never felt such lure from anyone as I do from her." I look over at Luciana once more and find my smile turning into a thoughtful glance. "She is like no one I have ever met."

"Because she's a powerful psychic like Annie? Or because she can keep secrets about herself as well as you can?" Rachel retorts with a smirk. I look back down at her smiling and give a small breathy laugh.

"Perhaps... Are you sure you're not physic?" I joke and cock an eyebrow playfully. Rachel laughs slightly and shakes her head.

"Not even a little." She replies as I look back over to Luciana. She places a delicate, l finger with a rose colored nail on the corner of the page and then flips it with a smile, her book drawing her deeper into its web. She was unaware of everything else around her. Perfectly content in her little world far from everything she has gone through; everything I wish she would confide in me about.

"If you wouldn't mind, Rachel," I start gently and cease our dance as the music comes to an end. I look back down at the raven haired girl as the others move into the Parlor room. "But there's a certain damsel that needs to be swept off her feet."

Rachel gives him a slight nudge, smiling as he walks away. I stop in the doorway to the Parlor room and narrow my eyes at the sofa.

"Where's Luciana?" I ask and look about the room at the others. Her book had taken her place on the sofa.

"She was heading towards the kitchen." Emery speaks up and looks up from his plate. I turn towards him in question.

"The kitchen?" I ask, wondering if I had heard right. "By herself?"

"Yeah the kitchen and no not alone." Emery snaps back and takes another bite of his pizza. He swallows the lump of food in his throat. "She went off with Vick."

I take another look about the room and then head down the hall to the kitchen. I look through the glass of the kitchen doors and spot Luciana sitting on one of the tables. She was staring out the window into the health room contemplatively. The moon shines brightly through the top of the health room, illuminating it and the kitchen slightly.

I turn the handle to the door and gently pull it open. I walk up to the side of the counter, slightly behind her and just stare at her a moment longer. She no doubt has heard my footsteps.

"Ready to head back, Vick?" She asks and looks over her shoulder. Her smile falters as confusion washes over her. "Oh. Hi you."

"See anything interesting?" I ask softly, looking between her and the window. She laughs, a melodious tune top any ear, and shakes her head of golden waves.

"Not really." She taps her nails against the table top and looks back out the window. I smile at her and study her as though she were a piece of artwork. The moon's light gleams off her faintly sun-kissed skin, her hair, her eyes. She looks at me.

"What?" She asks after a moment with an embarrassed laugh. She pushes her hair behind her ears and for the first time I take notice to the earrings she is wearing. A stud in her upper ear and a stud in each lobe. The diamonds sparkle, but my eyes are taken with her eyes that shimmer like the ocean waters at night.

"Not to be too forward, but you're eyes are absolutely beautiful." I speak softly, afraid my voice may actually betray me. It's the oddest feeling I have in my chest. A tight, tingling sensation that has found its way to my hands. She was making me nervous. Something no woman had ever done before.

"Are you alright?" She asks kindly and watches me with a steady eye. I give a small laugh and look towards the windows to gain my composure. I hardly know this woman and yet she has such an effect on me.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" I retort with a smile. She gives a shrug.

"Well, I thought it was my turn to ask." She smiles whole heartedly and then hops off the tabletop. "Seeing as you ask me every other minute."

"Yes, I suppose so, don't I?" I reply and watch her carefully.

"Shouldn't you be back with the other? I'm sure Rachel is missing her dance partner." She asks finally. Her words wound me for some reason. A feeling of guilt washes over me. Again, I barely know her and yet I feel so... unlike myself with her around.

"I was looking for my partner." I smile softly. She looks around the kitchen and then meets my gaze once more.

"I haven't seen Rachel in here. She's probably with Annie." She smiles and begins to walk towards the kitchen doors. "I should probably go find Vick. He wasn't looking so good earlier."

"Luciana." I call her name and she stops at the door. She looks back at me with an inquisitive look on her face.

"What is it?" She asks with a small laugh. I try to think of what I had wanted to say, but I don't think there was anything. I just don't want her to go.

"I'll walk with you." I supply and walk towards her. I offer my arm to her and she takes it graciously. We head down the hall silently, no sign of Vick.

"I guess he went back to the others?" She questions softly and looks up at me as though I have all the answers.

"Perhaps." I reply with a laugh and lead her back to the Parlor room.

* * *

**~LUCIANA POV~**

When we get back to the Parlor room, Vick is nowhere in sight.

"Where did you two run off to?" Steven asks as we enter. I let go of Nick's arm and flail my own for affect.

"Well Vick and I went to the kitchen. Then he ran off and Nick showed up." I explain and pick my book up from the couch. I sit in its place and set it on my lap.

"Where is Vick?" Steven asks and sets down the fire poker.

"Right here. Anyone care to dance?" Vick walks back into the room, smiling ear to ear. I laugh slightly and watch as Vick looks around at everyone.

"Well not me. I'm pooped." Pam speaks up, looking towards Vick. "Where have you been?"

"I lost my book." Vick shows his book to us all and moves around Nick's chair. I stand from my seat and take Vick by the arm.

"I would love a dance, Vick. That is if you wouldn't mind." I smile at him and watch his eyes light up.

"Of course, Dr. Gallagher." He sets his book down and pull me towards the entrance of the Parlor room where there was more room to move around.

"Call me, Ana. Please." Vick nods and takes my hand while placing his other on my waist. I feel a pair of eyes on me as Vick twirls us in circles. I cling to him and laugh as he slows down. He was quite the dancer.

"You're very good, Vick!" I laugh again and look back at him. He dips me suddenly, making me squeal and then brings me back up. We dance for a little while longer until we are both tired. I sit back down in my seat on the couch, several feet from where Nick sits in the chair. I stare off into the fire and give a small laugh at some thought.

"It's story time." I look over at Nick, who has spoken. He crosses his legs and looks to Joyce who has decided to join the rest of the group. "We've heard the one about the actress. Tell us about Rimbauer's partner, Mr. Posey."

"Remember that séance I told you about?" Joyce asks as she leans against the back of the sofa that Vick and Cathy sit on.

"Starring the famous gypsy physic, Cora Frye?" Nick asks, keeping his eyes on Joyce. My eyes snap to him.

"Who?" I ask suddenly and then look to Joyce. "I thought her name was Madame Stravinsky."

"That was her stage name. Her real name was Cora Frye." Joyce clarifies and then falls silent. Her eyes narrow at me. "Why?"

"It's just... Never mind." I try to weasel out of the trap I have stepped into.

"No, please. Go on." Joyce encourages, but I shake my head. She nods and then looks around the room again. She begins her tale, but I tune out. Cora Frye... Cora Frye... that name sounds oddly familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"According to family legend uncle Posey had a taste for cowboys." Steve finishes and I couldn't help, but laugh softly as it pulls me from my thoughts.

"He liked, chaps in chaps?" Nick asks, trying to hold back his laughter as well. Rachel and Pam both smile. "Was he into roping or branding?"

"I think a little bit of both." Steve answers, earning another laugh from me. I see Nick smile, still trying to hold back his laughter.

"John Rimbauer bought him out of distress sale prices. He was told never to come back to Rose red, but he did. Once and that was in 1915. John was in Europe and Adam and April were at home with their mom." Joyce explains as I feel an incessant nag of the name Cora Frye again. Why is her name so familiar? Where had I heard it before?

"Grand-dad never forgot Posey tossing him that Tom Mick's hat of his. He wanted to keep it and he threw a tantrum when his mother tried to take it away and the rose..." Steve looks around at all of us. "He never forgot April catching the rose."

"Why did Posey wait a year to do it? And why... here?" Rachel asks as she looks around the room. "Any ideas?"

"If you wanted answers you came to the wrong place." Steve replies, looking back at Rachel.

"Following the suicide John and Ellen kept Adam out of Rose Red as much as possible and as I told you he was at boarding school when his sister disappeared." Joyce cuts into the conversation once again.

"He knew damn well that something was very wrong here. Even then." Pam's voice is hard, laced with fear.

"The male descendents in the Rimbauer line have mostly stayed clear of the family manor. I wasn't here more than half a dozen times as a kid. I got off on my own just once. I was eight." Steven looks back at Joyce who has placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, wait I thought your father ah-" Joyce starts, but he cuts her off.

"No, my father hated this place. He was afraid of it, but it was my mother who brought me. I forgot until today, blocked it out, I suppose. Nick reminded me. She probably couldn't find a babysitter."

"What was she looking for?" Rachel asks, staring towards Steve.

"I don't know. Antiques, loot, I think she was drunk. That's my memory of it, but she so often was in those days. I know she and dad were broke. After we lost the oil company, it's been a family disease; broke-itis."

"And while your mother was treasure hunting you got lost." Nick states more than asks. His tone sounds odd to me. I look over at him and notice the look on his face. He was searching through Steve's memories.

"Yeah... I mean it was no big deal, but..." Steve tries defending himself.

"And you were upstairs before you realized how lost you were." Nick is looking towards Steve, but is actually looking passed him. He was seeing it all like a flash. "One floor above the mirror library. Or was it three floors? Or, or ten? Because when this place gets going, when it feels lively, when it has energy to draw from, Rose Red can make itself as big as it wants. Can't it?"

"Nick, what's going on with you?" I hiss gently. Nick keeps his eyes on Steve, but he no longer looks like himself. His expression was dark, pointed.

"But finally you go to the top and that's when-" Nick was cut off by the Parlor room doors slamming shut. I immediately get to my feet and look about the room. The house begins to rumble. The tables shake, lights fall from the walls, light bulbs burst and cause sparks to fly.

"Oh my God!" Joyce calls out as she looks around the room in frenzy. I duck several times, arms over my head, afraid that I'll be hit by the sparks. Nick stays seated, rooted to his chair, gripping the arms of it.

"What is it! Do you know!" Joyce calls out to Nick as she runs to her computers. Nick's chair shakes violently. I struggle to keep my stance. It feels like an earthquake.

"It's a telekinetic manifestation! With stifling elements, like an earthquake!" Nick yells back to her over the noise of the rumbles and breaking bulbs. Rachel screams and pulls Annie closer to her.

"It's the house! It's coming alive!" Cathy yells, looking around frightened.

"It was already alive!" I scream and duck as a bulb above me bursts.

"How many are there! Can you tell!" Joyce yells out again to anyone that would answer. Pam screams this time, moving closer to Steve as more sparks fly.

"Damn this thing!" Joyce yells at the machines and hits them.

"I'm not sure if there's anyone here. I-I don't know, this is crazy!" Cathy yells, cowering from the sparks.

"Be gone!" Vick yells out to whoever was in the room with us. A bulb blows right in front of Emery's face, causing him to turn around towards the fireplace. A beast comes out from the fire. I lurch towards him and grab Emery beneath the arms, dragging him back from the fire. The beast grabs his legs. I let go of Emery and moves to his side, placing my hand of the beasts. My skin grows a bluish-white. The beast screams and returns to the fireplace.

Suddenly, everything stops and becomes quiet again. I slowly get up from the floor and turn to face Emery to ask if he was okay. Something else catches my attention. A stroller rolls on its own in front of Emery. It's filled with dominos and a red haired doll. Annie gets up from her seat next to Rachel and walks closer to the stroller.

"Oh, Annie, don't, don't touch it." Rachel stands up and watches Annie as she walks closer and picks up the doll. I move around the stroller and passed Annie. I shake my head. Something was very wrong with this.

Rachel, Nick, and I all look back towards the record player that had begun to play softly. Nick turns around first and looks up at me. I can see the apprehension in his eyes and feel the same way. We turn back and watch Annie, knowing something else was coming.

As if on cue, the same apparition from earlier appears in front of Annie. I sit up straight, getting ready to bolt over to her.

"Nick..." I look over at him with fear filling my eyes. He stands up and pulls me to him. I grab his hands, holding them tightly as we watch the apparition form before our eyes. Rachel is about to say something to Annie, but can't think of anything.

"Annie Wheaton, don't you dare touch that thing!" I snap, trying to get Annie's attention. Nick looks down at me slightly startled by my tone of voice. Annie seems not to hear me and moves closer to the ghost, her arm outstretched. Joyce walks behind her, egging her on.

"_Annie..." _The ghost calls like earlier. _"Annie... Come..."_

"April Rimbauer! You leave her alone!" I scream, taking a step forward, preparing to block Annie like I had done earlier. I feel someone grab hold of me though. I'm being pulled back by Nick. I look down to see our hands still clasped tightly and then look back towards Annie. "Let me go, Nick."

"No." He argues as I begin to struggle. He quickly wraps his arms around me, locking me to my spot. "Stop, Ana!"

"Let me go! Nick, let go! Annie, get away from her! Don't touch her!" I scream again, causing Nick to hold me tighter against him. I see Steve reach for a glass that has been sitting on a table. "Throw it!"

Steve looks at me, glass in hand.

"Throw it!" I scream again. He looks back at the ghost and then throws the glass with full force. The ghost transfigures into an immensely bright light and then disappears when the glass finally hits the doors that had slammed shut. Everything ceases. The air falls silent. The lights stop flashing. Even the fire dies down. The doors unlatch and slowly creak open.

I watch Annie cautiously. This was the second time today that April Rimbauer had shown up to try and entice Annie. It reminds me of a proverb I have seen in my studies. It was from the pages of The Bible:

_If sinners entice thee, consent thou not. If they say, 'Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privately for the innocent without cause: Let us swallow them up alive as the grave; and whole, as those that go down into the pit: We shall find all precious substance, we shall fill our houses with spoil: Cast in thy lot among us; let us all have one purse.' Walk not thou in the way with them; refrain thy foot from their path. For their feet run to evil, and make haste to shed blood._

"I would advise that none of you go wandering tonight." Joyce says with a fanatical smile seared onto her thin lips. At this moment I am glad that Nick's arms are still wrapped tightly around me. I can feel his hot breath in my hair. Joyce turns her head, still smiling, and looks to Steve. "Wouldn't you Steve?"

He just stares at her a moment. He is unsure what to think of her right now, but he then nods his head.

"As a matter of fact I would." Steve replies slowly. Joyce nods her head, mumbling 'good' to herself and walks over to her table with the computers. The rest of us look around at each other. After another moment I lean my head back against Nick's shoulder and close my eyes. My back is hurting from the pressure of his chest pushed against it, but I don't care. I feel safe in his arms.

The group slowly disperses from the room and we head upstairs. I don't say anything. No one does. We just slip into our assigned rooms and close the doors without so much as another look at each other.


	12. Chapter 12: Because of Luciana's Look

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

We all went to our rooms quickly after the little incident down in the Parlor room. Not one of us spoke to each other. Nick had kept his arms around me until we made it to my room for the night and then bid me goodbye. I had quickly dressed in my pajama pants and a simple tank top and then crawled into bed. The covers had sat over my entire body for a long while in fear of what might be lurking in the darkness.

I stare up at the ceiling now with the covers tightly beneath my arms. The house was quiet; too quiet. In the distance I can hear the small ticking of the grandfather clock. A clock I have yet to locate. I throw the covers off of me and sit up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. I look to the right and stare out the windows that line the wall. The sky was dark, but I can see the light of the moon still shinning.

I look to the flashlight that sits on the nightstand beside the bed. I had made awful sure that I grabbed it only because my powers weren't always reliable when I was scared... or angry.

I look about the room again. I sigh. The shadows are everywhere.

With no source beside my own mind the room lights up. Not enough to blind, but enough to see every inch of the floor, the walls even the creases beneath the furniture. I make the light fade away and the shadows slither back into their places once more. Then I bring back the light. For me it's as easy as flipping a switch.

Lights on...

Lights off...

Lights on...

Lights off...

Lights on…

I sigh and watch the light fade away. The shadows once again creep back into their places and watch me like creatures in the woods around my house. I lean my head back against the headboard and close my eyes. I am bored; beyond bored and paranoid too. I have this sinking feel like a rock in the pit of my stomach that something bad was happening right now somewhere in the house.

My mind drifts to the others. Cathy and Pam are sleeping in the same room like Annie and Rachel. Vick and Emery are alone. Joyce is alone, sitting at her table in the Parlor room, and Steve is sleeping alone. Nick too is alone. I wonder what he is doing, what he's thinking. For some reason I feel guilty. For some reason I feel as though I owe him.

I lean to the left and turn on the lamp that sits beside my flashlight. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stare at the wall. Tingles run down the length of my arms and settle in my hands, making them clammy. After another minute I am up and out of the bed. I pick up my crystal Baoding balls and begin turning them around in my hand as I pace back and forth about my room.

Another uneasy feeling settles like a second rock in my stomach. I am sure I am not the only other person wide awake and on edge in this house. Especially not after what had happened. No one can sleep knowing what this house can do; what it will do.

That thought frightens me. This isn't the first time I have been to a haunted house. This isn't the first time I have been around other psychics not in my family and this isn't the first time that something has gone completely wrong because of a paranormal entity that wished for blood.

I stop pacing and walk over to my window. I kneel on the windowsill bench and stare out over the grounds. The fog never seems to dissipate. It's always there; always watching, always waiting. The proverb hits me again.

_Come with us, let us lay wait for blood, let us lurk privately for the innocent without cause: Let us swallow them up alive as the grave..._

I suddenly hear whispers. I turn my head to the right and stare off in concentration. I can't make out what they're saying. A name? A phrase? It's too low for my ears to make out. Then I hear footsteps; fast, heavy. I throw a hand up towards the lamp on my nightstand, turning it off. Then I look towards my door and stare at the break between the floor and the end of the door. I don't see light or a shadow of a body. I stand cautiously and walk to the door. I place a hand against the wall and place my left ear to the wood. I can hear the footsteps still, but they were heading away.

I shove my Baoding balls into the pock in my pajama pants and then slowly turn the knob of the door. I peer out into the hallway. It's incredibly dark. Almost pitch black. How anyone was running around without a light is beyond me. I quietly take a step into the hall and look both ways in search of the footsteps. Instead I hear the whispers again and this time I know what they are saying.

_There she is...  
__Get her…  
__Get her..._

I quickly step back into my room and slam the door shut with my mind. I run to my bed, climb over it and grab the flashlight. I kneel back by the headboard and click it on. The light shakes in my hands as I shine it about the room. I don't see anything, but I can still hear the whispers.

Slowly the flashlight's beam begins to die away. I look down at it and then hit it with the palm of my hand. It flickers. I hear the sound of scratching, something dragging against the floor. The flashlight flickers again haphazardly like a strobe light.

"Oh, fuck this." I snap and jump off the bed, running at the door. I throw it open and run out, streaking down the hallway. I don't look back. Not even when the whispers disappear. I slow when the air falls silent, the only noise being the ticking of the grandfather clock. I stop when a loud _thump_ sounds from a door to my left. I go to the door and knock, looking back and forth down the hall. When no response comes from behind the door I knock louder.

"Who is it?" A voice from behind the door barks out.

"It's Ana!" I call back and then wait again. I lift the flashlight up and click the button several times. It goes on and off fine. The door behind me opens slowly to reveal rather startled Emery and a rather brightly lit room.

"What do you want?" He bites at me and then knits his eyebrows together. "And what are you doing walking around in the dark?"

"Well, I heard a thump and wanted to see if you were alright." I explain, leaving out the part of why I was alone in the dark. Just seeing another person was helping to calm me down.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just saw that Deanna Peatrie lady, that's all." Emery shrugs it off and opens the door wider. I give him an incredulous look.

"You saw a very, very dead actress... and you're fine?" I cock an eyebrow and wait for a response. "What did she want?"

"None of your business." Emery barks and I throw my hands up in defense.

"All right then." I reply and turn to head down the hall. He gives me a snort and scrunches his nose.

"You gonna tell me what you're doing in the hall?" He asks again and I shake my head.

"Goodnight Emery." I walk away from the door and begin walking down the hall again.

"Joyce said not to wander!" Emery calls out to me, forcing me to stop and look back at him. He leans out his door, the light from his room pouring into the dark hall. I can tell he's afraid. I walk back to him and reach into my pocket.

"Do you know what these are?" I ask and hold up the Baoding balls. He shakes his head. "They're Baoding balls, but they're my special design."

I turn one around and point to the engravings.

"Because they're also amulets. They're carved with specific symbols and letters to ward off evil and they're made of special crystals; danburite and phenacite." I hold up the Baoding balls, one in each hand. "Both help with intuition and inner knowing and to ease nervous tension and stress. They're very powerful, very expensive and **very rare** crystals. So, please be careful with them."

I hand them over to him. He takes them and studies them with that pessimistic gaze that only he can wear.

"I want them back in the morning, okay?" I ask and then head down the hall. Before I get too far away I call out to him. "And Joyce Reardon can kiss my ass! That bitch is crazy!"

I turn a corner and walk lonely in the darkness. I hear the whispers come again and turn around quickly feeling as though someone was behind me.

"Hello? Is someone there?" I ask the darkness. No reply comes except the chiming of the grandfather clock that I had still yet to lay eyes on. I click on my flashlight and shine it this way and that in search of the presence, but find none. My eyes scan the dark hallway as fear grips my heart. I'm afraid to move; to take even a single step. I swallow hard and then turn around, continuing on my way.

"This was a really bad idea, Ana. A really, really bad idea." I chide myself and turn another corner. "Let's go to a haunted house! Yeah, brilliant idea Dr. Gallagher. What were you thinking? You know what happens in these places you twit. Just remember the other psychic field trips you've been on. Those should have kept you far away."

I recognize this hall as the one I want. I count the doors I pass; one, two, three, four, five. I stop and look both ways down the hall before knocking. I hear nothing at first and then soft footsteps coming towards the door. I rock gently from one foot to the other in anticipation. The door opens and reveals a dark figure. I quickly raise my flashlight and Nick throws a hand up before his face, covering his eyes.

"Oh, sorry." I apologize and lower the light. He drops his hand and stares at me in the darkness. He leans to his right and flips a switch. The lights in the room go on and I can turn my flashlight off.

"What are you doing out of bed?" He asks slowly as his eyes examine me from head to foot and back up again. I wiggle my nose at the smell of smoke thick in his room. It reminds me of a bar, but without the stench of vomit.

"I really don't want to be alone in this house." I answer and hold my flashlight before me tightly in both hands. "And I didn't know who else to go to."

Nick leans against the doorframe and then looks out into the hallway before sighing heavily as though believing he was going to regret his next move.

"Well, we can't have you walking all the way back by yourself. Get in here." He moves back to allow me to sneak inside. He shuts the door and walks passed me to the windows, sitting on the bench. He picks up a glass and the half worked through cigarette.

"Okay, first off; ew. Those things have so many pesticides and poisons in them. Not to mention rat poop." I start and point at the cancer stick in his hand. "Besides that, those things will kill you."

"This house will kill me." He retorts and gives a small, dejected laugh before taking a long drag of the cigarette. I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head. He looks back over at me and releases the white smoke. "Anything else?"

"Yeah actually. What were you doing brooding in the dark?" Nick gives a genuine laugh this time.

"If the house is going to eat me, I doubt that it will mind whether the lights are on or off. I personally prefer not to know it is coming." Nick replies and takes another drag from the cigarette. He lets out another long puff of white smoke into the air.

"You're really bent on having the house eat you. That's heartbreaking. You're the only one I actually like here." I comment and scrunch my nose at the smell. I turn my head away, acting as though I was looking around the room, to try and stave off the stench. "But I doubt Rose Red will devour you smelling like a chimney. Is it a habit of yours or only on occasion?"

"I'd really rather a different outcome. Being consumed by a house seems rather ridiculous and I only smoke when I'm anxious," Nick pipes up, noticing my reaction to his habit. I look over at him and try to hold my breath. It was making my stomach churn. "Or after sex."

I try to contain my smile, my laugh, but as the image of Nick Hardaway in bed with no shirt, sheets covering the most erotic part of him and a cigarette in hand, comes to mind, I can no longer restrain it. I can't tell if he was trying to make me laugh or if it was an innuendo. Probably both. Either way, it makes me feel better. I give another laugh and shake my head at him.

"Well seeing as you never get rattled by anything," I taunt and move towards the window. "I guess it's safe to assume you've had sex then. Was it good? I've heard that ghosts can bend all sorts of ways."

"The best I've ever had." He replies with a laugh and takes a drag. He taps the butt against the rim of the glass, the ashes falling within its crystal walls. "...I do get anxious and afraid."

"Really? You're human?" I ask with mock surprise and plop myself down on the other side of the bench. It was strange hearing such a confession from him. I think for a split moment that he is still joking around, but I see his expression change. It's no longer lit by a smile. Instead he looks crestfallen. He gives a small snort of a laugh and looks out the window beside him. The air falls silent. I can see that he really is anxious. He really is afraid.

"You're really afraid." I state to myself gently. It's actually making me depressed by seeing him this way. It's like watching one of my brothers or a close friend struggle with something they can't handle on their own. I quickly turn on sister mode for this stranger that I feel I've known my entire life. "Afraid of what?"

"I'm sorry?" He looks back over at me and takes a drag of the cancer stick.

"What are you afraid of?" I feel awkward for asking him. Since I met him, he's always seemed so secure, so confident in himself and everything he does. It's almost unnatural to see him like this.

Nick stares at me a long moment and then takes a drag of his cigarette again. He turns his head and blows the smoke away from us. I question whether or not he's going to answer.

"What has you up and about in the darkness?" He asks and all I can do is give a 'humph' and look back out the windows. "What?"

"It's just that," I start and look back over at him. I lean back against the small wall behind me, "you're a lot like myself. Quick to ask questions, but slow to answer them. At least I don't play head games though."

"Ah, but you do." He replies and finishes his cigarette. He tosses it into the cup and sets the cup on the ground. "You play them rather well, Luciana."

"No. I flat out tell you I'm not going to answer." I retort and then shake my head, eyes closed. "And why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Because it's your name," He starts his smile dissipates. It's as though he finds the question irritating. No. He's displeased by my question; with me not liking my own name. He looks over at me again and stares me down, "and I rather like it. Or would you prefer 'sister' like Rachel?"

"I prefer **Ana**." I counter and look over at him. The moonlight illuminates half of his face, a stark contrast from the light of the lamps in the room on the other half. I notice the color of his eyes; a stormy grey-blue.

"And I prefer **Luciana**." He retorts and leans a shoulder against the stained glass of the window. I notice that he has yet to change his clothes. He looks somewhat uncomfortable in his two shirts, one long sleeved, his grey dress pants and hiking shoes. I was wearing such thin clothes and I was still warm. He looks as though it was the middle of winter.

"All right _Luciana_, why were you brooding in the dark?" I ask and lean forward. I cross a leg beneath my butt and lace my hands together.

"If I tell you, will you answer one of my questions?" He asks slowly and then raises a hand, pointing a steady finger at me. "Will you answer one of my questions honestly?"

"Depends on the question." I reply, all frustration and joking gone. I am worried now. My hands tingle as nervousness spikes within me. I feel small beneath his gaze; like a child being scolded.

* * *

**-NICK'S POV-**

I watch Luciana as she stiffens. I haven't even asked the question yet and she's already become uncomfortable; panicked. She pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs, reminding me of a statue named 'Sorrows' that I had once seen in my travels. She looks so vulnerable in this moment. For some reason all I want to do is wrap my arms around her and tell her everything is all right.

"I was brooding," I start and stand up from the bench, "because I didn't get a chance to dance with the most beautiful woman in this house."

She's relieved, but I'm not. As soon as she had appeared at my door I had filled to the brim with nervousness. I had thought about sending her away because of the way she makes me feel; like a school boy who fancies a girl he can never have. He can never touch her because she's made of glass. One wrong touch and she would break.

"Well, you could go ask Emery. I think he's still up. He's been fornicating with ghost tonight too." She replies with a sarcastic, thoughtful face. I push my sleeves up, outstretch a hand to her and smile softly. She looks at my hand, face blank, and then scratches the back of her head. She was about to reject me. Again, this was something no other woman has done to me before.

She stands and gives me a smile. She walks passed me, giving me a good look at her from the back. Her blue and white stripped pajama pants sway. They're are far too big for her. The ends drag against the floor and her butt, which is surely smaller than it appears, looks puffy. Her camisole hugs her curves, the curves of a real woman, in all the right places. I find myself imagining what she looks like without her clothes; the curve of her hips, the actual shape of her butt, her breasts, her-

I look away. I am ashamed to have been thinking about her in such an erotic fashion. I take a deep breath and try to rid myself of such carnal desires. Something hits me. I look back at her again. Her shirt... It exposes her upper back where long angry marks stretch out from beneath the light blue fabric.

"What's that on your back?" I ask with concern and watch her as she heads for the door. She laughs and picks up her flashlight. I study the marks closer and my eyes grow wide. "Are they... claw marks?"

"Uh yep." She gives a nod and laughs again, nervously this time. "I earned them in the mirror library when I jumped in front of Annie."

She looks back at me and taps the flashlight gently against her hand. Her expression twists into one of both sarcasm and skepticism.

"Apparently ghosts don't take too kindly to having their plans thwarted." She gives another laugh, more at herself. Then she reaches an arm behind her back to touch the scratches tenderly. "They don't really hurt anymore though. Just kind of ache."

The room falls silent between us. She's waiting for me to say something to her, but what? Oh how I wish to read her mind! To tell her all the things she wants to hear, needs to hear. But I promised her that I wouldn't 'mosey' around in her head. So I don't and with that I don't say anything either.

"Goodnight Nick." She breathes out softly and places a hand on the doorknob. She gives a small laugh and looks back at me with a mischievous smirk. "If any more ghosts visit you, remember to use 'protection'. You never know what they might be carrying."

I give a small laugh myself and shake my head. She was such a trip. I can tell there are many skeletons in her closet, but she still manages to smile, to laugh, to joke. In this instant I lose all of my nervousness. I gain back my courage and confidence. I stride over to her and grab her by the hand, spinning her around to face me. The flashlight falls to the floor. She looks startled as she stares up at me with wide eyes.

"If you won't give me answers, then you at least owe me a dance." I state and flip the lights off. The moonlight becomes our spotlight as it shines brightly though my stained glass windows. I take her right hand and place it on my shoulder before my left hand rests on her hip, almost hovering over it. The near touch was almost unbearable.

I hold her left hand firmly in the air and begin to sway us back and forth effortlessly, turning us ever so slowly in the moonlight. She doesn't speak and neither do I. We are in a different world. A world where moonlight shines like the sun and silence envelopes us like a warm blanket. The dance a conversation in itself. It speaks of certainty, of a future, of... love.

Her face softens as she stares tenderly into my eyes. I crave to know what she is thinking, but I don't dare break the silence. We move gracefully around the room. All I can hear is the creaking of floorboards. If I listen closer I hear the sound of her soft breathing, her content sighs. They soothe me, calm me, and at the same time unnerve me once again.

I see a grin stretch across her delicate lips and then hear the comforting sound of a laugh as it escapes her lips. I don't know what she is laughing at or about. Perhaps a thought that has found its way into her mind. It doesn't matter though because soon I begin to laugh with her. It's a silent inside joke between us. This connection we have, we both feel it and we know that the other knows it.

I spin us around and around. Faster and faster. Our laughter grows louder as we try to remember to take a breath. I stop our spin and dip her, laughs peeking as we struggle to breathe between each one. Then my laugh begins to wane as I take in the sight of her. The moonlight hits her face just right in this position in my arms. Her faintly sun-kissed skin seems to glow and her eyes sparkle like the moon itself. Her hair cascades down like a waterfall of gold and tickles my arm. She is still giggling, but her lips are curled into an enduring smile. I feel it is a look only for my eyes and no others. It's a look I have never known before.

I feel safe because of Luciana's look.

I feel secure because of Luciana's look.

I feel wanted because of Luciana's look.

Because Luciana's look is full of love.

I slowly and carefully bring her back up. We stand there silently. I try and level my breathing as does she. My hand still rests on her hip and the other holds hers prisoner. We stare into each other's eyes for a long moment. She feels my intensity and looks down at the floor between us bashfully.

I place a single digit beneath her chin and pull it up. Her eyes meet mine. I slide my hand across her cheek to cup her delicate face. Her cheeks are warm. Her breathing is off, staggered. Her eyes looks frantically between my own as I notice her cheeks are tinted pink. Whether from our dance, the laughing or knowing what I have in mind, I don't know which. I take a soft, deep breath and slide my hand from her hip to her lower back, pulling her in closer.

"Nick." She breathes out, voice ragged. I smile when she looks to my lips, eyes glazed with wanting. Then it registers. She just used my name. This was the first time she's used my name. My heart feels like it will soon explode. I close my eyes, eyebrows firmly knitted together as my stomach does a flip.

"Say it again." I breathe out and then swallow hard. I feel my voice is about to betray me. I have fallen for this girl. I never much believed in true love or love at first sight, but she makes me want to. "Please. Say it again."

"Nick." My name rolls off her tongue and falls from her lips gracefully. I open my eyes. I am sure they are lustrous. I rub my thumb over her supple skin and then lean in to her, pulling her closer to me. My lips capture hers in a tender kiss. We break, but only for a moment. I kiss her again. This one just as tender as the last. She wraps her arms around my neck, one palm resting gently against the back of it. We kiss again and then again.

I know in this moment why I have come to Rose Red; why I was drawn here. It isn't because of the money Joyce promised me. It isn't because I had an interest in the house. It's this woman in my arms, this woman who makes me feel whole.


	13. Chapter 13: Let Me Tell You A Story

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

Luciana pulls away suddenly from my lips and places a trembling hand on my chest. I can feel the heat radiate from her touch. Her eyes close and her head hangs slightly. I worry if I have moved too fast for her. I worry that she doesn't feel the connection I do.

"...I used to be very good with the paranormal; the supernatural. But I'm not anymore." She starts and I find myself shaking my head at her. She doesn't have to do this. I don't need to know about her past. I find myself only needing her.

"You don't have to explain anything to me." I rub my thumb over her cheek. "Or to anyone else for that matter

"Yes, I do. You know I do." She refuses to look at me though. I guess out of shame or perhaps guilt. "I want someone to hear it. Why not you? Anyways, how can we know where're we're going without knowing where we've come from? Our past makes us who we are."

Her words sound hollow. They sound distant and not her own. It was as though someone else speaks for her, uses her mouth, her voice to convey a message. She doesn't believe her own words. Maybe I have pushed her too much to tell me about herself; to tell me about her past. I'm regretting it right now. Especially when I notice the pain on her face as she looks up at me.

"If you haven't noticed, I'm not very good with people either." She gives a dejected snort of a laugh and shakes her head, looking down at the floor again. "I chalk that up to bad life decisions, years of seclusion in the woods and just my general nature."

"I respectfully disagree." I argue and brush her hair behind her ear. I didn't think she was bad with people at all. A little shy at times, but not socially awkward. "I think even in your isolation you are more in tune with the world than you or your family thinks, Luciana. More than you or they care to acknowledge."

My words make her nod her head as she looks up at me. She searches my eyes, trying to figure out whether or not I'm reading her mind. I'm not. I don't need to. I can see that she is about to tell me everything that's on it.

"Sometimes the people closest to us are just too near to see what's going on beneath the surface; to understand. And then sometimes they're wolves in sheep's clothing." Her voice is so soft; so defeated. I try to understand what she is telling me, but it's so foreign; so cryptic. "Sometimes people only appear as though they want to help and when you let demons in, you can't rid of them."

"I don't understand." I speak finally and shake my head. What is she talking about? Was it her family? Or someone outside the family like a friend?

"How much do you know about the paranormal and psychic powers?" She asks and I can't help but find the question odd.

"I don't doubt that you know the topic inside and out or that you know much, much more than myself, despite your young age." I explain and for a moment try and guess just how old she is. She's at least in her twenties; twenty-four? May be twenty-five? I am nearly ten years her senior at any rate. "But I know quite a bit about the subject. I know that the paranormal is not something to fool with. There are things out there that should not be meddled with. I doubt the others realize this or what they have gotten themselves into by coming to Rose Red. I don't even completely know myself, but they are far too naïve and inexperienced to be taking on such a powerful entity."

I try to answer honestly and completely. I'm not entirely sure what she was expecting me to say or how deep I am supposed to delve.

"I also know that there are psychics, much like our little Annie, with very real and very dangerous power. I've met my share through paranormal expeditions like this one, but I have a feeling that you are far beyond that of our youngest team member and have at least learned to some extent more how to control and even hid your abilities." I finish and she nods her head. Obviously she is satisfied with some portion of my reply.

"No one has ever seen **me**, Nick. They see my powers, what I can do with them and then that's it. They don't care about much of anything else; just my powers." She tries to make things clearer, but I am still somewhat lost.

"Are you talking about your family?" I venture a guess, but she shakes her head.

"They care about more than that. Though at times it does feel like I'm a commodity to them and perhaps I am, seeing as I'm the first of my kind in at least four centuries. I'm talking about scientists though, people much like Joyce, who are blinded with the possibilities of the infinite power of the supernatural. Many people become fixated on the topic. For one reason or another and they can never let it go." She explains in a rush, but I take it all in. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, licking her lips. "This isn't my first paranormal 'field trip'. There were two others several years back when I was in college. They..."

She stops. Her face contorts as though she's in physical anguish. I move my hands to her shoulders, rubbing my thumbs over her warm skin to offer her some comfort.

"Will you tell me? Or is it too painful?" I question in the gentlest voice I can manage. She swallows hard and gathers her strength, nodding her head. I don't know which question she was answering.

"When I was a freshman in college, at Cornell in New York, the parapsychology department was looking for psychics. 'Any and all', was about their slogan. I applied immediately because it was something to do with my powers. I was so naïve back then... I kept asking myself 'what's the harm? It's an abandoned jail. What could go wrong?' I didn't see the danger even though we were told the place was haunted up front. Haunted was my life from the day I was born. Why should it have mattered then?" She licks her lips and raises a shaky hand to her forehead. She rubs the muscles jerkily, face contorting. "The trip ended with two people in the hospital ER and one in an induced coma. The three others and myself narrowly escaped, but we did. I still don't know _how_ to this day."

"What happened to those three?" I can't hide the tone of shock in my voice. She shakes her head and rubs her forehead more fiercely. For a moment I worry her delicate skin may be ripped away.

"The place really was haunted and the spirits there were livid. Ghosts of dead inmates, both sane and not, usually are. We weren't prepared and we weren't even halfway through the first day before everything went belly up. The place just started falling apart. A girl named Kyra ended up in a hospital bed with third-degree burns covering her from head to foot. She scarred for the rest of her life. The doctor's said she was lucky she didn't die. Lucas, my cousin actually, was pushed down two sets of stairs. He broke both his legs, a wrist and dislocated his right shoulder. Then Yuri, who was the oldest of us, was shoved from the third story onto the cement floor. He's still in a coma. The doctors doubt that he'll ever come out of it."

I don't know what to say to this. I have been in bad situations on these little field trips before, but no one had been hurt so severely. We had never had observed such strong manifestations.

"The last one..." She stops suddenly. Her hand falls from her forehead as her eyes glisten with unshed tears. She looks up at me and I can see remorse, guilt written all over her face. "It was my fault."

"What do you mean?" I place a hand on her cheek again and knit my eyebrows together. Surely she didn't have any blame in what happened. Surely she was only feeling guilt unnecessarily.

"I'm a paranormal magnet; always have been. I was scared and angry. Dr. Clarke made me so mad." She starts, her voice wavering.

"Who is Dr. Clarke?"

"The team leader. He was a family friend. So of course I couldn't say no one he asked me to join his group." She was going into a rant. "He promised that everyone would be fine. He said that we were safe there. He never told us the place was haunted or that he had brought other psychics there before."

"Brought them where?" I don't like where this conversation is going. It has a spine-chilling undertone to it that is making me uneasy.

"The Mortis Sanitarium." She states and stares up at me with sad eyes. "Back in the late 1800s, around 1890 or something, Lewis Mortis, a doctor of paranormal studies, built the place on the most secluded piece of land he could find in New York."

"What was it?"

"It was a place to house psychics. All ages, all power levels. It was a place for scientific study." She replies and runs a hand along the back of her neck. Her hand then slides to mine that was still on her shoulder. She holds it tightly there.

"He experimented with psychic powers?" It isn't the first time I had heard of experiments to test psychic powers. Especially from that point in time when skeptics needed hard proof. Luciana slowly shakes her head at me though. She doesn't speak. She wants me to rethink my question. It hits me. My face contorts to revulsion. "Lewis Mortis experimented **on** psychics."

She nods.

"Mortis lured psychics, young and old, there under false pretenses. Once they were through the doors they were his prisoners. He did terrible, horrible things to them. Tested electro shock therapy on them. Even did lobotomies on some of them to see if he could isolate what part of the brain the psychics drew their powers from. Most of them died during these little _sessions_." I can feel Luciana shiver beneath my hands. She pauses for a moment longer and then continues.

"One night, a _patient_ came in. A level four or so Mortis labeled him. He was the strongest psychic they had found yet. They gave him a sedative and sent him to bed, but he didn't fall asleep. He had allowed himself to be found and taken. He was looking for his five year old daughter, who was supposedly kidnapped six months before and taken to the sanitarium for her ability to sense other psychics. When the nurses were gone he ripped the door to his room right off the hinges and rampaged around the sanitarium, starting riots, setting thins on fire, tearing down doors. The patients outnumbered the nurses and doctors; three to one. The place went up in flames some time during that night because of that level four. He was apparently a pyrokinetic."

"Did he ever find his daughter?" I find myself asking, but she shakes her head.

"If he did, then she burned alive like the rest of them. There was never any record of survivors." She answers and looks down at the floor beneath our feet.

"And what about _your_ trip to this sanitarium?" I ask slowly, unsure if she still wants to talk about this. She lifts her head and meets my gaze for only a moment.

"There were eight of us who were 'chosen'. Each had a different ability." She starts and looks back down at our feet. "...none one knew that Dr. Clarke was obsessed with Mortis' work... or that he was his ancestor. We thought that we were just going to spend the night in that place and in the morning get the Hell out. It was 'routine' as he said. He wanted a twitch, just one single twitch, from the place."

She falls quiet again. I can see she is remembering the experience. Her words float through my mind again.

_... a twitch, just one single twitch..._

The phrase is familiar. I have heard it before, nearly worded the same exact way. The words float in my mind again. This time it was Joyce's voice who spoke them.

"_A twitch; a single twitch."_

The resemblance is off putting to say the least.

"What did he do?" I find myself curious about what went on in that sanitarium, about what this Dr. Clarke did to these people; to her. Luciana doesn't reply. Tears spill from her eyes and roll down her cheeks to her jaw. She didn't hear me. She's lost in her painful, horrifying memories. "What happened?"

"Nine went in, but only one came out." She speaks up. I could hardly hear her, but I had and the information astonishes me. She was the only survivor. No wonder she feels guilt.

"What happened to the others?" I ask though I have a sinking feeling I already know; deep, deep down I know. She licks her lips slowly as more tears fall from her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, lips quivering and nothing comes out.

"...I'm afraid." She whispers finally, voice cracking. She is quickly breaking down before me.

"Afraid of what, Luciana?" I ask, but she doesn't reply. My heart is breaking for this girl. "Of what? Why are you afraid?"

She says nothing, but covers her mouth as more tears fall freely from her eyes. Then, without my knowing, a stone is thrown at this girl made of glass. She shatters before my eyes and I don't know what to do. She crumples to the floor, hand firmly over her mouth. I fall to my knees before her and gather her in my arms. She lets out a small cry and then lets the dam loose.

She cries for a long while in my arms. My shirt is wet with her tears. I rub her back soothingly and lean my head against hers. I look towards the windows and see the faintest of morning light coming up over the horizon. Somewhere the grandfather clock is ringing four o'clock.

Luciana calms down and quietly rests her head against my shoulder. I place a hand on the back of her head. Her hair is cool to the touch. Her breathing is steady, slow. Has she fallen asleep?

"Are you awake?" I test softly.

"...yes." She replies and lifts her head from my shoulder. She looks me in the eyes. Hers were glimmering from having been crying and puffy. Her cheeks are red and streaked with dried tears. I believe for a moment that she is going to finish her tale, but she doesn't. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You needed to let it out." I comfort her and place a hand on her cheek, wiping the dried tears away. "You can't keep it locked in. It will make you ill."

"What are you?" She asks with a small, sad smile. An attempt at trying to hid herself again. "A therapist?"

I give a laugh and close my eyes.

"Yes actually." I reply and look back at her. She gives a laugh and places a hand over her mouth, laugh building. I place my other hand on her other cheek and stare at her. My smile fades away. I want to kiss her, but I worry about her reaction and about how improper it would be at the moment. I would be taking advantage of her vulnerable state.

"Would it be all right if I stay in here with you?" Her voice is laced with hope, with fear.

"All right, but if my ghost lover comes back for a second round you may have to move to the window sill." I reply and earn a laugh from her. I lean into her and kiss her forehead. Then I help her to stand. I walk her to the bed and draw back the covers. She climbs in and I pull them up to her chest, tucking her in. She stares up at me, a question on her mind. "What is it?"

"Would it be too much to ask you to lay with me?" My heart skips a beat in both excitement and apprehension. I smile and nod my head, getting up from the bed. I walk around it and kick off my shoes. I climb in next to her and wrap and arm around her protectively. She places a hand on mine, lacing our fingers. I breathe into her hair and get a whiff of vanilla. I kiss her shoulder and pull her tighter against me, guarding her against anything that would try to harm her.

"I've never met anyone quite like you." I breathe without thinking. Had anyone ever heard that thought, 'without thinking', they never would have believed it had come from me. I always think before I speak. I always know what to say, how to say it, and when to say it. Not with her though. For some reason or other I don't feel I have to and I was about to pay the price.

"What do you mean 'like me'?" She asks and pulls out of my grasp. She flips herself over and looks up at me. She places one hand on the pillow beside her head and the other beneath it. Surprisingly, her words aren't angry, only inquisitive.

"You continuously amaze me." I reply with a small smile and push her hair back over her shoulder to expose the flesh. "I've never felt such a lure from anyone as I do from you."

"A lure? Am I fisherwoman now?" She asks with a small laugh. I can tell she is desperately trying to forget her break in composure. She wants normalcy. I lay my arm over her middle and run my fingers along her back. I stop, remembering the claw marks.

"_I'm a paranormal magnet."_

Her words resonate in my head like a bell. Whatever had attacked her had been drawn to her because of her power.

"_They don't really hurt anymore though. Just kind of ache like being bitten by a dog."_

Perhaps the marks weren't claws. Maybe they were teeth. Maybe the creature had been feeding off of her quite literally.

"You make me nervous." Again I don't think before speaking.

"Wow, tell me how you really feel, Nick." She jokes, but I can hear the offense and gloomy undertone. I move quickly to clarify.

"In a good way though."

"There's such a thing?" She arches an eyebrow at me and I can't help but to laugh at my foolish attempts. I roll over and place a hand to my forehead, closing my eyes and scolding myself. I sigh heavily. "What did I say?"

I laugh at this. She's worried that **she** has said something wrong.

"Can't you see what you do to me?" I ask and turn my head to look at her. She sits up slightly, leaning on an elbow, head in her hand and stares down at me with her big, puffy and red blue eyes. She's waiting for me to explain. "You unnerve me, Luciana. Every time you enter a room I come undone and, until you smile or I hear you laugh, I am cannot be whole. And when I am whole, I feel as though I have known you a lifetime. No one has ever had such an effect on me before."

"So why me?" She asks carefully. She's as mystified as I am. Why her? Of all others in the world, why her? At first it was a physical attraction; long blonde hair, big blue eyes, curvy and athletic figure, a melodious voice, a bright smile. Then it became something more. She was funny, clever. She understood things most didn't and didn't judge. There was something more though. Something beneath the surface of it all that pulled us together. It was some force we didn't have and still don't have control of.

"I don't know." I answer finally and remove my gaze from the ceiling.

"You're a remote viewer. So, if you don't know who should I ask?" She replies cleverly.

"How did you know that I'm a remote viewer?" I haven't told her about my abilities and none of the others except for Joyce knew. She looks between my eyes with an expression of contemplation.

"Can I tell you a story?" She asks quietly. I narrow my eyes, but nod my head anyway. It's such an odd request that I can't turn it away. Luciana looks down at the sheet we lay on; silvery silk. "There once was a little girl, who was born into a proud family full of mind readers and telepaths and clairvoyants. But this little girl..."

She pauses for only a moment.

"But this little girl had **real **power. It was far beyond any power her family had or anything they had seen in centuries. Far beyond precognition, mediumship or even telekinesis. They doted on her for this. They held her to a higher expectation then the others. Each day was a battle for her. She struggled to get a grasp on her powers. She trained and trained and trained each and every day from morning until night. She struggled to be what her family expected."

Again she falls silent. She drags a rosy red painted finger along the sheet in small designs.

"The girl never had to struggle to be normal though. She grew up happy. She grew up proud and strong and bright. There was never any fear or trepidation that plagued her... Then something happened. Something frightened the girl so terribly that it scarred her for life."

Luciana takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. She stares dazed at the sheet, eyes slightly wide and empty.

"That fear forced her into hiding. She locked herself far away from the world in a place no one would ever look. Her fear kept her prisoner there for many years until it found her once again and forced her out... but she remembered what had happened all those years ago. She remembered and so she fought; afraid of history repeating itself. Little did she know that the closer you get to the light, the greater your shadow becomes. The more she fought her fear, the quicker her fear pushed her into the same situation as the one it had been created in."

Luciana stops. She licks her lips and looks back to me. I look between her eyes and then notice the glow of yellow light that was encircling her from the rising sun. She looks so celestial like an angel; my angel.

"How does this story end?" My voice is as soft as the early morning light. Luciana shakes her head slowly and stares down at the pillow.

"I don't know..." She replies and looks back down at me. "...that's what I'm afraid of."

"There's something more. Something you're not saying." I can see it written across her face. She looks away.

"Don't read my mind." She pips and lays herself down beside me. I stare at her for a long moment and then turn on my side to face her. She slowly lifts her gaze and meets my look.

"You've told me this much. You can tell me the next piece of the puzzle." I try to urge her, but I can see she is having none of this. At least, at first. After another moment she meets my gaze.

"I had a precognitive-telepathic dream of coming to Rose Red; a week before the call from Joyce." She admits slowly. From her silence I assume that there was nothing good that came of this dream.

"I'm familiar with this type of precognition." I state, hoping to draw more from her. She stares at me a moment and then another, considering something very carefully.

"I don't want to describe it." She mumbles and clicks her tongue against her teeth. "I want you to view it."

"Are you... giving me permission to 'mosey' around your memories?" I don't believe what I'm hearing. The girl that was so against me probing her brain was telling me to do just that; probe her brain.

"Just that memory." She answers quickly. "Only that memory. I mean it."

There's obviously something in that head of hers that she doesn't want me, or anyone for that matter, to see.

"All right." I agree to her terms and lift a hand to her face. I cup her cheek and stare into her eyes. I feel the memory at the surface and dive in. It's eerie to say the least and sinister almost. After I have viewed it I search her eyes, my own darting from left to right. "Do you feel lost right now?"

"I've always felt lost." She answers softly and looks away.

"That's not what I asked." I keep my eyes glued to her face. She looks to me again. I feel the sun's rays pass over my face. "Do you feel lost right now?"

"...no." She answers confidently. I smile at her and pull her closer to me. She tucks her head beneath mine and against my chest. She breaths softly, but I know she isn't asleep. It takes only a few minutes before she's out cold. I sigh peacefully and allow sleep to over come me.


	14. Chapter 14: Road to Normalcy

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

I take a deep breath. My lungs ache at the full expansion and then my eyes flutter open. The sun light is too much at first. It's blaring right into my eyes. I blink several times and get used to the light as I try to remember where I was.

The sheets feel funny against my skin. The sheets on my bed were only a twelve-hundred thread count. They weren't the best, but also not the worst. The sheets I lie on now are too silky. They feel like a dress too tight for anyone to wear. The air is warmer and staler than my own room's. The lake and the trees made the air musky in the fall and sweet in the spring. The breeze is always cool and refreshing, unlike this air. This air was muggy, warm. There are no songs. No melodious singing of the birds living the trees circling my house. No sound of the fish jumping in the lake. No obnoxious hound barking from Seamus as a deer tromps across my deck in search of food. No creak in the floor boards from Seamus' steps or sound of his nails as he trots to my bed or even the jingle of his tags as he jumps up beside me.

I do not like it.

This is not home.

This is Rose Red.

I open my eyes and firmly stare at the stained glass windows. The designs of green and yellow glass make it hard to tell what they are supposed to be. The ivy, that has climbed up the wall and attached itself to parts of the window, sways in the morning breeze. I try to sit up, but stop at the tug of arms around my waist. I lift the covers and peer at my bonds. I don't recognize the hand and try to pull away again. The hold loosens and allows me to slide away. I turn over slowly and gently to see my captor.

I smile at the sight of Nick fast asleep. I bite down on my thumb nail lightly as I watch him continue to sleep. He looks so peaceful. No sly smirk on his lips or crease in his brow. My smile is quickly turning into a grin. He takes a deep breath and then sighs heavily, turning onto his back with an arm coming to rest around the crown of his head. The other hand slides onto his abdomen. Only now do I notice that his royal blue long sleeved shirt is missing. He's in his white undershirt, exposing his arms of blonde hairs and little freckles.

His eyes leisurely open. He stares up at the ceiling with as much confusion as I had had when I awoke.

This isn't _his _bedroom either. These aren't his sheets or his walls or his floors. This isn't the same air he breathes each morning or the same sunlight that falls through his windows. He is not safely within his home in his room in his bed beneath the covers. He is in Rose Red; a demon house set on swallowing all who pass through its doors.

He rubs a hand over his face and takes another deep breath. He then allows his hand to fall rather harshly, hitting the side of my head.

"Ow, you butt munch." I laugh and place a hand where he had made contact. He looks over at me, somewhat startled, and then smiles.

"Sorry." He apologizes and places the hand he had hit me with on his chest. The other continues to reside on his abdomen still. He stares at me for a long moment and I meet his gaze as we both fall victim to our contemplative minds.

I'm no mind reader, but I can clearly see that he is thinking the same thing I am. He's questioning this _link_ between us. So am I now that I feel it. It seems so peculiar that we would attract each other. He's funny. I'm not. He's debonair. I'm not. He's good and I am most certainly not. I'm a nobody with a dark past lurking behind her, threatening to rear its hideous head and devour her and anyone close to her. So, how can we feel such a pull towards each other? Opposites may attract, but they unquestionably don't last forever. Without something in common they are doomed to fail.

We are doomed to fail.

So, then how can this still feel so... right? And why, even with our suspicions and past experiences, are we letting fate lead us by the hand? Why are we playing along with this hoax if it will lead to heartbreak and sorrow?

The grandfather clock chimes and rouses me from my thoughts. It then counts the hour; eight o'clock. Neither of us makes a move. Neither of us knows quite what to do, what to say, how to act. We are in a strange house with strange people and in bed with someone we hardly know yet feel a connection to. It's awkward to say the least.

"What?" I can't think of anything else to say. I feel myself shrink beneath his gaze. He doesn't say anything. He only continues to stare at me. The emotions swirl in his eyes. I know the look.

"In this light you look," He begins, taking his arm closest to me and placing his hand on my head to play with my hair, which I am sure is a mess. He sighs softly, contently and then smiles, "absolutely repulsive."

"Ugh! You are such a jerk!" I squeal and pick up the pillow beneath my head. I hit him once, twice and then he catches it. I toss the pillow back to its spot and sit on my knees, feet to my butt, beside his hip. He sits up a little and leans his shoulders against the headboard. He places a hand on my leg, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the fabric.

"_We should probably think of joining the others soon."_ Nick whispers in my head. I smile at him and then lean forward, belly falling onto the bed beside him. I can't help but swoon when he gives me his devilishly smooth smile. It says that he knows something you don't, but he's not going to tell. He's going to make you suffer from curiosity.

"Do we really have to?"I ask and sit my chin in the palms of my hands.

"_I think we should. They may begin to worry the house has swallowed us whole."_ He replies and turns his head to me. He runs his hand over my right shoulder, making my skin tingle. _"Though... I wouldn't mind spending the extra time with you or seeing their reaction when they notice we're not with the group."_

I give a small laugh as I imagine their faces. I look back at him again and narrow my eyes playfully, trying to hide my smile.

"Does anyone else complain about you being inside their head?" I ask and place a hand gently on his arm that is wrapped somewhat around me.

"They don't normally notice." He answers as I trace my fingers over the blonde hairs that line his arm. I start at his wrist and then move leisurely up to the hem of his sleeve, half way up his upper arm, and then back down. "Then again, I normally don't converse via my mind with people... and that tickles."

I smile and then lick my lips, biting down gently on the bottom one.

"Why don't you?" I wrap my fingers around his forearm and rub my thumb back and forth a moment before meeting his gaze. I lock my ankles together and raise my legs, swaying them back and forth.

"Wouldn't want to frighten them." His answer makes me laugh and then I fall quiet into my thoughts.

"You haven't met a lot of other psychics like yourself have you?" I meet his gaze. My mind slips to another question. "Or normal people who are alright with psychic abilities?"

"Telepaths with a wonderful personality and looks to match? No." His wise remark makes me roll my eyes. "No I haven't met many of either. Why did you want to know?"

"No reason. I just... I sometimes forget that some people didn't grow up in a family like mine." I look down at the sheets beneath my and play with them. "I forget that not all families accept psychic abilities. They're _devil magic_."

"What are you thinking about?" Nick asks slowly, noticing my slipping attention. I shake my head, but don't meet his stare. I can't tell him this. It wasn't anything happy and it wouldn't bring feeling of peace. _"Tell me."_

I snap my gaze to him at the sound of his voice in my head.

"Did you just...?" I become worried that he's seen what I was thinking about.

"I only saw the emblem for the Abernathy Adoption Agency and you signing it." He explains slowly, sensing my disdain. I look away from him, missing the uneasy look as it crosses his face. "Do you have a child?"

"What?" I ask taken aback, voice full of bewilderment. I furrow my brow and then close my eyes, face twisting. I shake my head hastily. "No. I was a witness. I had to testify that my aunt and uncle were a good choice to be adoptive parents. They adopted this kid a few years ago when he was six or seven. I can't really remember which. His name's Neal. He's a really sweet kid. He's going into high school in the fall. Plans to play soccer as a midfielder. He's really good."

"Not everyone is related by blood in your family." Nick states and draws my attention to him. I shake my head again, but slower this time.

"No. He's the only cousin not related by blood." I reply and stop for a moment as I think of my young cousin. I shake my head at my thoughts and rub a hand over my forehead. "Doesn't mean that he doesn't fit in perfectly though."

"What do you mean?"

"He's got some psychic in him."

"What happened to his parents?"

"They were the church goers who volunteered to feed the homeless twice a month." My eyes grow slightly wider as I fall further into my memories. I run a hand through my hair and stop above my ear. I scratch my scalp gently even though there is no itch. "They found Neal one day in his room; both Neals."

"Both?"

"Neal's an astral projector. His parents saw his unconscious body in his bed and his spirit self walking around his room. Neal got scared and flew back into his body. They thought that they had just witnessed an evil spirit possessing their son. So, with evil spirits you have to exorcise. They tried to do it themselves because the church wouldn't ordain the ceremony. When that didn't work..." I drift off. "...when that didn't work they took him into their basement, tied him to a chair and slit his wrists. They were determined to save their son from the big bad devil one way or another."

"How is he still alive?"

"Their priest called the police when his parents walked into the church that night with blood on their hands. They confessed everything to him, but it wasn't under the understanding that they had it was between them. Neal was rushed to a hospital and his parents were arrested. Six months later my aunt and uncle found him in a foster home and a they adopted him." I finish and meet his gaze. I internally scold myself for telling that story. It was the last thing anyone wants to hear. "Sorry."

"For what?" Nick's face displays his confusion.

"That's not exactly what guys want to hear from a girl." I reply and run a hand through my hair again.

"I promise I won't charge you." Nick replies and moves his hand, attached to the arm before me, and lays it against my upper arm. I give a small laugh when I remember that he's a therapist. I see that look again swirling in his eyes. Again it makes me curious. I look back down at his arm. I play with the hair again and press a finger to each of the freckles sporadically spaced.

"What are you thinking about now?" Nick asks, bringing me out of my thoughts. I look to him and smile sheepishly.

"Oh, it's um... just something Tristram said to me once when I was younger." I reply and turn onto my side, facing him.

"What was it?" I give a shrug in reply. I give a laugh at the memory and look away for a moment, embarrassed. Nick gives a small laugh himself though he has no idea what I was laughing about. I've been told my laugh is infectious. "What?"

"All right, so I have this habit of staring off at nothing, thinking so deep that I don't notice anything else and sighing heavily repeatedly." I close my eyes and open my mouth as my lips curl into a bashful smile.

"What?" Nick inquires again. I look at him and lick my lips, giving a small laugh.

"My entire family teases me to this day because of it. They call me the 'Thinker'." I make air quotations with my fingers and then lace my hands together. "One day when I was, sixteen or so, I was sitting by the window and watching the lightning. Tristram comes into the room, notices me and says,"

I give a small cough to clear my voice and then in a sarcastic Tristram voice say, "Those who cannot tell what they desire or expect, still sigh and struggle with indefinite thoughts and vast wishes."

"Ralph Waldo Emerson." Nick knows instantly who the quote was said by.

"Yeah. I didn't know that the quote was from R.W.E. and I started to think about what he had said without realizing that Tristram was making fun of me. I stared out the window again, mumbled to myself a little as I thought and then I sighed heavily. He starts laughing like someone had thrown a cream pie into my face and then shook his head, saying I was blonder than Paris Hilton."

Nick lets out a rich, hearty laugh and closes his eyes, turning his body to face the ceiling. I laugh along with him a moment.

"So now my family calls me Blondie and Trist refers to me as Paris Hilton when I do something without thinking." I laugh and run a hand over my mouth, shaking my head at the memory. It really isn't that funny, but we need to laugh. It was helping to ease the tension.

"Your brother is a very clever person." Nick looks over at me with a grin that tells me he isn't done laughing.

"He's a pain in my ass." I laugh and close my eyes. I tilt my head back and then stare at the ceiling, shaking my head again. The air falls quiet again and stays quiet for a long moment. I hear the grandfather clock again chiming in the distance; nine o'clock. I lay my head down on my arms and sigh softly, laughing after I do.

I'm become torn. On one hand I want to scoot closer to Nick, lay my head on his chest, curl into him, and stay there for the rest of the weekend. On the other hand, I'm afraid of allowing this– whatever _this_ is –to move forward anymore than it has.

I wait a moment longer and then sit up, deciding finally on what to do. I crawl to the side of the bed and stand up, stretching. I arch backwards and yawn, then roll my shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Nick asks and watches me as I walk around the end of the bed. My pajama pants sway and brush against the floor as I move.

"I'm going to go get dressed." I reply and look back over at him once I reach his side of the bed, several feet away from him. I drag my teeth along my bottom lip as I think of something to say.

"Want to have breakfast afterwards?" Nick asks, seeing that I wasn't going to come up with anything else to say.

"Oh, I don't know." I reply as my lips curl into a smirk, clench my hands in fists and then place them on my hips with arms akimbo. I mock playfully. "You think you're so _slick_. Nick Hardaway can get **whatever** woman he wants."

I was feeling much like my old self. The playful, happy girl I thought had died all those years ago was making a reappearance.

"But this-" I wave a hand at myself, motioning to my body, "this is too much woman for you sweetheart."

"Oh are you now?" Nick laughs and lurches from the bed. He wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me back to the bed as I squeal and laugh. He falls on top of me and pins me gently to the bed. I chuckle, obviously over tired, and close my eyes tightly. I feel Nick place a hand against my cheek and open my eyes, chuckling turning into giggling. He brushes the hair from my face and gives several small chortles.

"_I think you're just the right amount of woman for me." _He whispers in my mind. I feel my cheeks go hot as a blush spreads across my face. My throat tightens and the butterflies start flapping wildly in my stomach. I notice now compromising our position on the bed is. He is settled between my legs, which are on either side of his hips, his abdomen hardly hovering above mine, and his face so dangerously close that I can feel his breath on my face.

My heart is beginning to race. Tingles crawl through my hands and feet. I know what he's thinking; a kiss. I'm not ready though. I hardly know him. He hardly knows me. Even though it feels right my head is screaming at me that he's a stranger, to run away.

"So, I'll see you in the kitchen then?" I ask softly, hoping to thwart any more romantic ideas from his mind. He smiles at me warmly, understanding what was going on in my head. He picks himself up from pinning me and sits on the bed to my left. I sit up and run a hand through the hair at the crown of my head.

I feel bad all of a sudden. I feel guilty and just plain down in the dumps. Had I wanted him to kiss me? Had I miss read the signals somewhere between my body, my emotions and my mind? I feel... rejected?

I look at Nick and open my mouth to say something without actually knowing what I want to say. I'm flustered, befuddled. I can't think straight. Is this the feeling he had been talking about? Did I really make him this unnerved? This unhinged?

I stare into his eyes. He knows how he was making me feel. He gives a small, soft snort and outstretches a hand to me. He places it against my cheek and rubs his thumb over my cheekbone. I can't fight the feeling and quickly lean to him, capturing his lips with my own.

The kiss is sloppy.

Nick gives a laugh as he tries to return my sign of affection. He places his free hand on my shoulder and pushes me back. I take a deep breath. My face twists into a silent apology. I turn myself away from him and close my eyes, scolding myself. I feel like a teenager again, especially since that was the last time I have ever kissed anyone. I feel like I'm going through adolescent hormonal changes once more. It's a horrible feeling.

"I'm sorry. I just- I haven't kissed anyone in a long time and this- whatever this is, is messing with my head and-"

"Stop talking." Nick laughs and scoots closer to me. His hand takes up residency against my cheek once again, making me look at him. I shut up instantly. Nick laughs softly again and shakes his head, looking over my face. His other hand comes to rest on my other cheek, holding my head a prisoner.

"Your brother was right. You're such a blonde." He laughs and then captures my lips in a gentle, tender kiss. I smile into the kiss and tentatively place one hand on his collar bone while the other rests against one of his on my cheek. He pulls away and stares into my eyes as a laugh forms in his throat once more. "Don't you remember our kiss last night?"

I freeze. I look away for a moment and wet my lips. I slowly close my eyes and scrunch my face.

"That wasn't a dream?" I ask after a moment and open one eye to look at him. The laugh in his throat escapes as a wholehearted laugh that reverberates around the room. I place my forehead into one of my hands and shake my head. I lift it and go to say something, but Nick catches my lips again and makes me forget what I had been wanting to say.

This kiss leaves me breathless.

We pull away from each other and I stand up from the bed. I shake my head at myself as I shuffle to the door of the room. I open it, say goodbye with a small, sheepish laugh and then walk out. I knock my head against the door once and hear Nick chuckle to himself. Then I drag myself away and head down the hall.

Yeah. I was definitely on my way back to normalcy. It had only taken finding this man in the most unlikely of situations to do it.


	15. Chapter 15: It Wants Ana

~}{Birds of a Feather}{~

I head back to my room and throw my duffle bag onto my bed. I pull out the towel I had packed away and then my clothes. I take a hot bath, the scalding water is both cleansing and condemning, and then wash my hair afterwards. I drain the water, step out onto the rug laid beneath it and look at myself in the mirror as I brush my hair.

I'm not the skinniest person in the world. Definitely not as skinny as Meghan or Claire, but I'm not fat either. Average. That's how I would describe myself. I'm average. At least on the outside. My blonde hair was bright golden. Once or twice my own brothers had asked if it was my real color or if I had gotten help from a box. It's my real color. It lightens the more sun I get. I was fair. Not ghostly like I used to be, but still light and vulnerable to the sun's harsh rays. My eyes though... they were anything but average. Moonlight: that's what my mother used to call them.

I get dressed in fadeout jeans and a yellow spaghetti strap shirt. I towel dry my hair and then pull it into a pony tail. I pull on my gladiator sandals and walk out the door and into the hall. It's quiet. A little too quiet for my tastes.

"Morning." I turn around at the voice and spot Cathy stepping out of her room.

"Good morning Cathy. Sleep well?" I ask as she walks up to me. She doesn't need to say a word for me to understand. "That well huh?"

She gives a small laugh and we walk down the hall together, chatting a bit. A loud, snarl catches my attention coming from a room down the Central Hall East. I say goodbye to Cathy and walk into the hall. I move slowly, but purposefully. I find myself at the Billiard Room and see Emery holding a phone in his hand.

"I'm sorry your call cannot be completed as dialed, just pay your bill and kiss my ass!" Emery shouts as he slams the phone down. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the doorframe.

"No luck?" I jump, giving a scream and slap a hand over my heart. I turn around to face Nick, who stands behind me with a cup of tea in his hands. He gives a small laugh and then steps towards me, placing a comforting hand on my back.

"You scared the crap out of me." I breathe; eyes closed and hand still on my chest. He kissed my forehead and gives a laugh.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes through another small laugh and then takes a sip of his tea. I straighten myself and look at him, shaking my head. He smiles devilishly and looks to Emery, who had resigned himself to an armchair. "The verdict is?"

"No and my mother's going to go crazy. It's not a very long trip for her even at the best of times." Emery says exasperated as I imagine him thinking about his mother coming to the house to find him and take him home. It was a frightening thought. Even for me.

"I'm sorry about that." Nick replies, genuinely sympathetic. Emery scoffs as Nick takes the armchair beside his. I sit on the arm closest to the doorway, one leg hanging off to the ground.

"I'm thinking about getting out of here before she shows up. I get very tired of her, you know... _showing u_p. Also, Rimbauer gets on my nerves. Joyce too actually." He sighs frustrated and then goes on to impersonate Joyce. "If you look to your left you will see the ghost of April Rimbauer and Douglas Posey. Don't worry they're perfectly harmless."

"That was good Emery." I laugh and smile at him. "And I don't disagree."

"And you two know what? Underneath that phony tour guide shtick, she's as crazy as the Red Queen. Off with their heads." Nick and I both laugh this time, smiling to each other. Nick lifts his cup of tea and takes a sip. His free arm wraps around my hips, hand resting on the side of my right thigh. "Then that creepy kid with that creepy doll. She's..."

Emery makes a crazy motion with his finger and my smiling stops instantly. I bite my tongue. Here I was starting to like Emery. My mistake.

"She's nuts too. Rimbauer's just smartass devour." Emery finishes and I am annoyed with him once again. Something fowl always seems to come out when he speaks. Even when he starts out fine, something terrible escapes. Emery looks over at Nick and studies his posture. Nick has his legs crossed, sitting very properly.

"What's this? Your shrink routine?" Emery asks, scrunching his red nose. Nick hands me his tea cup and then leans over towards Emery, placing his left hand on top of Emery's to play the part of the shrink.

"Just get it off your chest." Nick smiles and I laugh, enjoying the two getting along. _Somewhat_. I have no doubt that Nick is making fun of Emery in his sly way. Emery takes a deep breath and looks away for a moment.

"A dead cell? Isn't that what Joyce called it?" Emery asks as he sits straighter in his chair leaning closer to Nick and I. I hand the tea cup back to Nick. "You wanna know about dead? I had a dead movie star in bed with me last night."

"Deanna Petrie?" Nick asks, slightly surprised. I, of course, wasn't. I already knew this much.

"She didn't come back did she?" I ask slowly and look down at him. He tilts his head back and looks at me. "After I left?"

"No, she was there just the once. It didn't last long, but it was a very... _physical_ manifestation. I think I'm getting tired of Rose Red's little tricks. Joyce wants some of her $5,000 back; I'll just see her in court." Nick looks away from me and back over to Emery, who couldn't seem to contain himself this morning. "If my mother doesn't hear from me soon... she's really going to go nuclear."

"Well then, we'll just have to find a way for you to reach her. Won't we?" I try to reassure Emery. I slap a hand to my forehead and laugh at myself. "Emery, I have a cell phone upstairs. It's sitting on the night stand by my bed if you would like to try that."

"Yeah, but I doubt it will work." Emery stands up and heads for the doorway to the room. He mumbles a small 'thanks' and then leaves.

"Deanna Petrie..." Nick whispers to himself and takes a sip of his tea. He becomes lost in his thoughts, but not so lost that he misses the side table when he sets his tea cup down. I look down at him and arch an eyebrow. The way he had said Deanna's name made me jealous and laugh at the same time.

"You're wishing you had Emery's experience last night don't you?" I ask with mock, picturing Nick lying next to a dead Deanna Petrie. Nick laughs and pulls me to him, falling into his lap with a small squeal.

"Of course not." Nick begins and holds me tight. My knees bend over the arm of the chair as I grip the other arm tightly, trying to keep myself up. "I had something better in bed with me last night."

"And who, pray tell, was that?" I ask mockingly.

"Did it hurt?" Nick's question side swipes me. I arch an eyebrow at him and watch him carefully a moment.

"Did _what _hurt?"

"The fall from Heaven of course." Nick's face is completely serious. I laugh and shake my head.

"That was so corny." I laugh again and scratch the side of my head. I laugh once more and then lay my head on his shoulder. I want to stay like this forever.

"Are you hungry?" He asks after a moment. His hands are roaming over my skin like feathers.

"Yes." I reply as my eyes goes to his lips. Without realizing it, I lick my lips. Nick gives a small huff of a laugh and then kisses me. I feel heat rush to my cheeks and smile into the kiss. I kiss him back and we lean our foreheads against each others'.

"Ugh, I don't want to get up. I want to stay right here." I groan and let my head fall backwards. "But I'm _so_ hungry."

"Then let's get something in this belly." Nick places a hand on my belly. The thin shirt I wear allows me to feel every finger and every ounce of heat from his hand. I take a deep breath and then sigh, placing a hand against his cheek.

"You make me feel like me again." I don't mean to admit this aloud. I open my mouth to try and correct my slip, but it's too late.

"What do you mean?" Nick asks, but I can't answer. Answering this question would mean explaining what had happened at the second psychic field trip.

"I'm not ready to tell you." I speak slowly, hoping that I'm not hurting him. His hand moves away from my belly and rests against the side of my thigh. He taps his hand against the fabric of my jeans lightly and leans his head back against the chair.

"Alright, but I'm here when you **are** ready to talk about it." He smiles warmly at me and stares into my eyes. "How do scrambled eggs sound?"

I smile.

_After everything I have done... why does God see fit to give you to me?_

"Sounds good." I slide off of his lap and fix my shirt. We head into the kitchen for breakfast, but before we can begin cooking we hear the sound of humming coming from the Health room. We walk over to the door and there sits Annie playing with dominoes on the floor.

"Good morning Annie." Nick greets and smiles at the young girl. Annie looks up at us and quickly covers her face with her hands.

"Alright then." Nick's words confuse me. I look from him to Annie and then back to him. He walks back into the kitchen and I follow behind him.

"Were you two talking telepathically?" I ask finally and pull myself onto the table across from the stove. Nick sets his cup of tea down next to me and walks over to the fridge, pulling out several eggs to cook.

"Not quite." He admits and moves back to the stove. He sets the eggs down and pulls a frying pan from the box beneath the table. "I talk. She listens. It's odd being on the other side of that."

"Oh." I furrow my brows and almost pout at the admission. I was expecting _more_. I suppose. I watch Nick closely as he clicks on the stove and places the pan on the flames. I laugh at the scene. "A man that can cook! I'm going to be spoiled by the end of the weekend."

Nick turns around and moves closer to me.

"I intend to spoil you completely rotten, Dr. Gallagher." His voice is low and full of suggestion. He places his hands on my knees and slowly runs them up my thighs. I feel a tingling sensation run through my body as my breathing becomes unsteady. He leans closer to me and places his forehead against mine. His hands move slowly over my back, beneath my shirt and over my skin. His fingers are slightly calloused; the hands of a man. One rises up my shirt further while the other slips a finger into the waistband of my jeans. I suck in a short breath that sounds like a gasp of surprise.

I've had men touch me before. Lord knows I'm no virgin, but Nick is so... sensual. His movements are so steady, so sure. I've never been with someone like him. I've been with boys. Not a real man.

I open my eyes into small slits. I know what my eyes convey to him; lust. His gives a pleased smirk and leans in to kiss me. I open my legs and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. This time I kiss him. My kisses are hungrier than his.

My mind screams that this is wrong, but my heart arches with longing.

I wrap my legs around his waist and hold him prisoner. Each kiss becomes more erratic; the hunger growing. His hands move to my hips. His thumbs are firmly planted against my hip bones. Right at the anterior superior iliac spines. It's the strangest sensation, but it feels so good. I kiss him harder.

The knob of the kitchen door turns and then the door opens. Nick and I break away like we have been burned and look over to see Steve walk in. He stares at us for a long moment. None of us know really what to say. It's awkward.

"Can I interest you in breakfast Steve?" Nick starts and moves back to the stove. He cracks several eggs into the hot pan and they begin to sizzle. I clear my throat softly and turn my head from Steve, my cheeks burning red. I rub a hand over the back of my neck.

"Seems like you two are getting along great." Steve gets out as he puts on a button up shirt over his white t-shirt. I give a small laugh, but don't look at him.

"Yes, quite well indeed" Nick agrees and looks back at me, a smirk playing on his lips. Steve looks out the door into the Health room, hearing humming.

"Is that Annie?" He asks and looks between the two of us.

"Annie it is." Nick replies as he reaches for the spatula. He shifts the eggs around in the pan. Steve sits down on a stool, looking down at the counter top. "Would you like some eggs? It would be a pleasure."

"You're just spoiling everyone today, aren't you?" I laugh, turning away from looking at Steve to Nick. Nick smiles and puts another egg into the pan.

"No thanks." Steve replies as he pours himself a cup of coffee. "Have you seen Joyce?"

"Yes, she is fiddling with her equipment looking as if she last got a good night's sleep circa 1952. I'd tread carefully if I were you." Nick offers, staring at Steven with a serious look.

"She's crabby, huh?" Steve asks as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Very. Video was cloudy. The audio, garbled. No recorded telemetry of any use." Nick explains as he pours out the pan of eggs onto a plate and hands them to me with a fork.

"Thank you." I smile, taking them and taking a bite. Nick winks at me and goes back to make himself some eggs. Steve turns around, looking towards the other wall behind him.

"What's that?" The tone his voice takes makes me curious. I follow his gaze and look at the open, secret door in the far wall.

"The wine cellar." Nick replies and sets the spatula down. He follows Steve to the cellar door and steps inside. "Isn't it marvelous? The door was open when I came down this morning. Haven't you seen it before?"

"No." Steve says bluntly. I take another bite of my eggs and watch them carefully. Something feels off about the whole situation.

"Rose Red hasn't just woken up. It's begun the house and garden version of Frankenstein's monster." Nick's colorful imagery would have made me laugh had I not felt the rush of icy air coming from the cellar. I set my plate down on the table beside me and hop off the table. I take several steps closer and then stop. My hands shake as a chill runs down my spine.

"That's ridiculous." Steve assumes, looking back at Nick.

"Is it? Listen." Nick holds up his hands, telling us to listen. They listen closely, hearing the sounds of hammerings again.

"You heard much of that?" Steve asks Nick, looking back at the walls of the cellar.

"Enough to worry me." My eyes lock on Nick at hearing that he was worried. Hadn't he been the one last night telling me everything was going to be alright? "...and Bollinger's persistent non appearance worries me too. I mean you would think if he was still here, still here and alive, we would have run into him by now. Wouldn't you?"

"I don't know." Steve answers honestly, looking between Nick and me. He lingers on me a moment with narrowed eyes.

"And the longer we go without reporting his disappearance then the more peculiar our position becomes if he turns up dead or if he doesn't turn up at all." I can feel Nick's worry from where I stand. Steve walks further into the cellar to the back rack of wines. He picks up a bottle and blows off some of the dust that has collected itself on it.

A tingle runs throughout me and makes me turn my head slightly as though I felt someone walk up beside me. The air is suddenly freezing. I can see my breath.

"Tom Peranyon 1949." Steve reads from the label on the bottle. "Very good year."

"In my experience, they're all good years." Nick takes the bottle from Steve with his free hand and examines it himself.

"Would you two get out of there?" I ask and look back at them. They stare at me a moment and then look at each other. They walk out. Steve closes the door. Nick moves to me.

"You're shaking." He examines and hands the bottle off to Steve as he passes. Nick places his hands on my arms and rubs them up and down to warm me. "You're freezing."

He places a hand against my cheek and looks me over once more. I close my eyes and swallow hard, trying to push the feeling of death away. I take hold of Nick's hand against my cheek and rub my thumb over the back of it.

"Don't go back in there again. Please?" I ask, almost beg, and open my eyes to stare in the stormy grey-blue orbs of the man I was falling for. He narrows his eyes at me and then nods his head, telling me that he won't.

He ushers me back to the table where I had set my eggs down. He picks up the plate and hands them to me, telling me gently to eat. He moves back to the stove and continues to cook his own breakfast.

"What goes better with scrambled eggs than champagne?" Nick asks as he turns around from the stove with the hot frying pan. He moves to the empty plate beside me and dishes out his breakfast. "Pull the cork Steve."

Steve grabs hold of the bottle and pops the cork. Nick sets the frying pan down on the table further away and then grabs three empty glasses from the counter. He pours out one glass and tilts the bottle in Steve's direction.

"Will you wet your whistle?" He asks and looks to Steve.

"It's a little early for me." Steve declines and leans on the table. Nick takes a sip of his champagne and smiles. He looks to me and offers me the glass, but I shake my head.

"Mmm." Nick makes me laugh. I know that's what he was trying to do and he accomplished it. He stands beside me, eating his eggs. He occasionally looks to me to make sure I am eating. I take a bite of my eggs and have to force myself to swallow them. I wasn't hungry anymore, but for Nick's sake alone I would eat.

"You know, this place is feeding off us." Nick suddenly pipes up. Steve nods his head as though this was no new news to him. "And, although I'm sure it finds us all rather tasty... its primary sources of nourishment are our little Annie, Ana and you."

My eyes snap to Nick. I stare at him long and hard as he takes a casually fork full of eggs from his plate. I had known that the house would feed off of my powers. I had known that even before I had stepped foot within its walls. To hear Nick say it though... it made everything seem finite; the darkness, the cold, even death. Nick didn't even sound worried.

"Me?" Steve asks incredulously. "I don't have a telepathic bone in my body."

"I don't know what you were before you came here and the house almost ate you alive, but I now know you and Ana are powerful psychic transmitters operating on Rose Red's frequency." Nick explains and takes another bite of his eggs. "It almost had you once, Steve. It wants you back. It wants Annie and Ana too."

"You're crazy." Steve surmises suddenly and shakes his head at Nick. I wish I could think the same, but I know better. Nick was telling the truth. I can feel it.

"Crazy? Perhaps." Nick nods his head. "But I bet Joyce is crazier. She means to have her proof. Even if someone has to die for her to get it."

"You're wrong." Steve snaps and shakes his head again.

"Am I? Let's ask Mr. Bollinger if we ever cross paths with him again." Nick takes another for full of eggs and watches Steve closely as he rambles around in his pockets. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to make sure Miller actually sent Bollinger here. If he did I'll call the police and report him missing." Steve answers as he pulls out the cell phone that had been found in the Health room the day before. He presses the redial button and holds the phone up to his ear.

"Joyce won't like that." Nick announces.

"According to you she's not very happy anyway." Steve takes hold of the champagne bottle and drinks straight from it in a large swig. He leaves a message on Miller's answering machine and then closes the phone handing it to Nick. "Will you talk to him if he calls back?"

"I'd be delighted." Nick takes the phone and sets it down beside me on the table. I stare down at the last bit of eggs on my plate, ignoring what was going on around me. Nick's words rebound in my head like some kind of chant.

"_The place is feeding off us."_

"_It wants Ana too."_

I set my fork down on my plate and then set the whole thing off to my other side. Nick notices my behavior. He sets his fork on his plate and lowers it to the table top. I don't say anything and just push myself off of the table. I walk out of the kitchen and down the kitchen hall to the grand stairs in the main hall.

"Ana!" I hear Nick call to me, but I ignore him. For some reason I don't want to talk or listen. I want to be left alone. I speed walk into the Central Hall West and into the gun room. I can hear Nick's footsteps behind me, growing further and further. I shut the door and then run to a door at the back right of the room. I grab hold of the knob and freeze.

"Ana! Where are you?!" Nick calls out, his voice sounding far away. He had no idea where I had gone; which room in the Central West Hall I had gone into. Something within me tells me to follow his voice. I look towards the entrance into the gun room and take a deep breath. I hear doors open and slam close as Nick searches for me. "ANA!"

Something else tells me to leave the gun room and head through the door I held onto. It was something that had been following me, hovering over me, since the wine cellar in the kitchen. It had been there, had touched me and hadn't left me alone yet. This _thing_ was what I was trying to run from. Not Nick. Not the others.

I turn towards the door before me, grip the knob tightly and then open it.


End file.
